Delicate watercolor painting, he stands in close profile at the left edge of the frame, sea-worn lines of his face catching the last warm spill of evening light, one eye visible, fixed on the far line of the harbor, lashes rimmed with salt and sleepless miles, a subtle crease between his eyebrows, skin tanned from months at sea. The right side of the image falls away behind him into soft focus, ropes, masts, dockworkers moving like ghosts, all muted into color and motion, with muted blues and grays. Over his shoulder, she is a small but unmistakable figure on the shore, standing at the water’s edge, her dress pulled by the wind, a shape he has traced a thousand times in memory, her long brown hair blowing in the wind, a gentle smile on her face.
