Perspectives

A stormy, foggy morning sat over the outskirts of Morro Bay. As I rounded a bend in the road, I happened to glance into my side mirror and caught a glimpse of something that demanded a second look.

Morro Rock rose out of the mist, enormous and imposing. Waves crashed along the shoreline, while the early morning sunlight fought its way through the heavy cloud cover. Near the edge of the water stood a lone man.

I pulled over.

There was something wonderfully contradictory about the scene. The rock and the ocean were powerful and immense, yet the fog softened everything around them. And there was this one small human figure standing in the middle of it all.

As I grabbed my camera from the back seat and walked around to the front of the car, I wondered what he was seeing. From where he stood, perhaps it seemed as though this magnificent scene had been arranged just for him — the fog, the waves, the morning light, and that enormous rock looming before him.

His own private moment.

Then it occurred to me that he probably had no idea I was standing some distance behind him with a camera. To him, I didn't exist. But from where I stood, he was part of the picture. In fact, without him, it wouldn't have been nearly the same photograph. There he was, unknowingly standing in the middle of my perfect, majestic scene. Laid out just for me.

It was then that I took a quick peek behind me... and started laughing.