This was taken quite a while ago, some time between 5am - 7am at South Melbourne pier. My favourite time of day. Hardly anybody else awake and lighting is so amazing.

I wrote this piece that morning:

The change carried a cool wind as the warm night turned into a chilly morning. I started my morning walk with the "Good Morning" tune from "Singing in the Rain" dancing in my head. It quickly turned into a thoughtful self-reflection as I failed to wish a good morning to a man walking his dog. We crossed paths in silence, I not able to see his face for it was still quite dark at 5am, I concentrating on the dog and wishing that I had one to take for a walk with me, I wishing the man to have a good morning, I not saying it out loud, I sensing his eyes on me, he walking on his way and I creating mine. The wish untold.

An hour later I stood at the edge of the pier. A step ahead starts the sea that goes on and on and it could take me so far. And I thought that next time I want to run away and live in far and unknown places, I will come to that pier and breathe in the history of deep and loud water and I will let it tempt me. Two men and a woman readily answered my now confident "good morning" wishes. They lured little fishes onto the sharp and nasty metal hooks. I saw them catch a few. Every time the woman said "It's too small, put it back" and so the men did. Poor little fish. Injured and then shockingly lifted out of their homes, soon declared too small and unsuitable. Somebody left an orange starfish to dry on the wood of the pier. Its edges were deep pink. Dead. I rolled it to the edge and pushed it into the water. Soon there was a still yellow star glowing out of the dark green weed.

Later on I stood and watched the sea. Transparent water. So immense. Foamless waves crashing near my feet. They looked strange. Just a few metres away the waves had the white edges, but not at my feet. There was just transparent water. Maybe a few bubbles, but not enough to all together be white.