Light is sacred to the photographer. We rely on it, our sensors capture it, we chase its every form, from sunlight to lamplight to starlight. Dusk is one of its more mysterious articulations, as the heat of sunset cools to lavender and blue and indigo, shadows shifting and colors weeping like melancholy watercolors.
The light was saying its evening goodbyes, to the sand scattered with shards of obsidian and broken shells, to the elephant seals barely a hundred yards away, to Remington descending into the ocean as high tide was swelling to greet us. And as the light was fading, the lavender hues began intensifying, the waves were pulling at our ankles more aggressively, the complexion of the seafoam was beginning to match the sky, and once Venus finally revealed herself above us, a mere pinpoint of light, twilight had reached its climax in a thunderous crescendo.