Along the weathered edge of Walton’s shore,the sea wall bends like an old man’s spine—tired, cracked, but still holdingagainst the endless breath of tides. Salt has carved its signaturein every crease, every softened line;stories sleep in the concrete—storms survived, summers passed,footsteps long washed away. A lamppost stands in quiet witness,strapped and steady in the grey morning hush,while puddles gather the sky’s reflectionlike scattered thoughts left behind by rain. Fa

Saturday the 26th of September, sunny, strong breeze and high tide (no beach). Having your main subject completely covered by water...

15th September, 8am, sunny crisp early autumn day. Tide half way up the beach. Little wind. One of the processes that has evolved since...

5th of September 4pm-5pm, pretty much at high tide at 5pm. The evening light caught the incoming sea at the top of the beach,...

This is a story about a small part of our coastline. A piece of beach 50m x 100m on the Essex coast near Walton on the Naze. Our world...