Recalled Place,.. Person,.. Situation

4.4.07
On my second Trek, I broke free of the wooded trail I was heading down toward the beach on. As I did, I captured a breathe of the fresh beach like air. I turned to my right as I was discovering this new atmosphere and I saw a white chair positioned around an old bon fire pit. I walked up to this area and found that a whole story had taken place here that I had no idea about. It was a life outside my own. At a certain time at this very place people had gathering to sit by the water’s edge and have a couple drinks. As I try to put together in my mind what had happened that night, the stories they told, the laughs they shared, I found a spot of red on the white chair. My mind began to wander. I thought, maybe it was something good that happened here. I thought maybe someone had found and it was blood on the chair, or I suppose it could have been paint. When I thought about those possibilities it led me to believe maybe it wasn’t a group of people at all. Maybe, it was just one person, drinking alone at night next to a dying fire and gazing out over the lake. Maybe they were sad. Maybe they’re story would have been the most fascinating of all but I would never know it. I then begin to think that so much could have happened around this fire pit and white chair. In this one spot, so much history presented itself; so many possibilities.
As I finished taking my pictures in that area, I turned to venture down the beach. As I turned and I saw a man approaching me. The beach was deserted excepted for the two of us. He was older, a little dirty, and he was holding a bag of something. For a slight minute, I felt the fear of not knowing what would happen next run throughout my body. I began walking towards him and he towards me. The closer we got, the faster my heart beat. We were now within hands reach of each other. I nodding at said hello. He quietly mumbled hello back and continued walking pass me.
I found a new place I want to photograph and I began doing so. I was looking around me when I caught the white chair in the distance again. This time however, the white chair was occupied by the man I had passed earlier. He sat there with his bag in hand sitting in the chair, which he had moved closer to the water. He starred out into the lake as the breeze caught his hair. It made me wonder, was this his first time sitting in this chair, or was he part of the history I had thought about earlier?