It is always about light and shadow. Slant light at day’s end spins silver across the water. A photograph freezes light and shadow, dream and real. We imagine sitting in the static blue chair in the static world of silver hue. A dream. The dreamer frozen walks in tidal pools. I stand on a sandy hill, looking out over the light, but somehow I walk there in the pools and watch from the blue chair. We dart in and out of light and shadow.