OTHERS

Out of season, a crisp, cool light floods the North Carolina shore. The warm, languid days of summer have long passed, and those who once inhabited the Outer Banks have retreated elsewhere. Bright red painted chairs sit empty around an unlit fire pit, quietly resonant with the memory of past gatherings. The beach house stands closed, not abandoned, merely marking time.

As I photographed, I felt like an intruder, moving through a place that belonged to others, their presence sensed rather than seen, implied in what had been left behind.