A photorealistic dusk over a small harbor. A murmuration of starlings holds, for one breath, the exact silhouette of a moored fishing boat, including the mast and a curl of smoke that is only birds. The real boats below are still. Water is pewter. A single gull refuses to join and sits on a piling, unimpressed, which is the humor. Last sun on wings. No people. 85mm, 2:3 aspect ratio. The birds are birds, not symbols. The air feels cold. Monumental and light at once. A radio talks about weather that is already in the room.
