Living just minutes from a very beautiful, and popular beach, you would assume we would be spending most of our time living life large in the summer. We don't do the "tourist months". May to August, this city is prey to it's own popularity. Between the loud angry honking of people fighting over the last parking spot, crowds, and the illegal dogs running free, we have learned to leave it to the visitors. We realized what bliss a less crowed beach can bring during a late evening summer visit. Sun staining the faraway islands with a glorious amber tones. Tide lapping at the sand, discarded seaweed lining the breakwater revealing occasional beach glass. It surely is a moment when time stands still. Twilight as you crunch between the logs, colors the end of the beach. There are less people, it is your own private world, and it has stood still in a muted moment of bliss. A occasional seagull swoops by, hoping for handouts, the daily snack of fish and chips devoured earlier. Treasures dot the logs, left behind after a blissful day in the sun. Shoes, sunglasses, and clothing. Sometimes a broken bottle, remnant of last night's party. It is cooler, moister, and quieter. In the gloaming kayaks are loaded up by silhouettes haloed in the fading light. We sit together on the beached, sea smoothed logs, sharing a moment, a sliver of life captured by the camera. Our brains tracing this time into a memory, one to draw out and share years from now. Beach bliss.