There’s something magical about traveling to different places each week.  Monday I could be in a rural town in Pennsylvania, and then Thursday a beach in New York.  I try to keep an eye out for sights to see while I have gaps in my schedule.

I was working 10 minutes from a beach on Staten Island last week.  After lunch I drove past packed schools, streets packed with parked cars.  Suddenly, as if hidden from the busy town, I arrived at a nearly vacant park.

Lo-fi effect filter added.  I hadn’t developed my 35mm film yet.

Bikers and dog walkers passed on the paved path as I snapped photos with my 35mm toy camera.  Seagulls gathered in a pool of foamy, feted water.  Their calls taunting some sharp-beaked sea birds nearby.  There were strange structures in this place; some forgotten warehouse or factory.

I took my camera past the fenced off brush, and went down to the beach.  I let the breeze coming from the ocean whip around my work shirt.  Far off down the way a shirtless old man was casting a fishing rod into the water.  I could see a lighthouse on an island miles away.

I get moments like this with my job.  Tiny 1 hour vacations, micro adventures to places I wouldn’t think to explore otherwise.  To everyone who lives there, this place was common and ordinary.  To me, it was an uncharted frontier waiting to be documented.