Every day has its own story. As of late I've been actively trying to keep that in mind when I head down to shoot, as opposed to just around for pretty pictures. After all, telling stories is what this is all about (at least in my uninformed, uneducated opinion).

Take the old man above. He was standing right there when I first stumbled down bleary eyed onto the beach at about 5 30, pumping little hand weights together with a resound clack, staring resolutely at the sea with a mix of longing and stoicism (with the occasional grimace I might add), and he was still there at 6 15 when I took this shot just as the sun was peaking over the north heads. He must have been pushing 80 and here he was, down the beach well before the sun camp up, working up a sweat and doing weights in the morning sun. If he can do that, it made me realise we have absolutely excuse to wake up in the morning and chase whatever it is that we are after. It also made be really want to have a chat and hear his story, but he looked pretty focused, and Humans of Bondi this ain't.

The rest of the morning passed, as it is want to do, in a particularly golden fashion.

Bonus shots at the end of a particularly ludicrous sunset spotted on the way down to Canberra last Friday.