Thin fog diffusing the early morning sun light.

I smell the waterfront before I actually arrive. Piles of rotting wet seaweed on the beach.

Thousands of birds digging for snacks. A cluster of sandpipers race with the small waves moving on the beach.

A line of pelicans flying near the surface of the ocean disappearing into the fog.

Four workers heatedly telling the truck driver in Italian that they cannot unload the boxes of fish because their back's hurt.

And finally a group of bird watchers in bright clean clothes, with cameras, binoculars and books standing at the railing focused on something I don't see.