He sat there perfectly reposed, contemplating the sunset at low tide on the beach in front of Witch's Rock Surf Camp, Tamarindo, Costa Rica.
I stood some distance away, alternating between still observation of the breathtaking expanse before me and the activity of trying to capture it forever on digital devices, swatting every so often at the skeeters that found gaps in my skin's deet shield. Surveying the panorama so fussily enthralled, I couldn't help but admire that dude on the beach, unmoving and reflective, reflected in the receding water, settled in the cool damp sand. Cooly committed. As the sun plunged lower and water and sky drained into the horizon, he appeared as a small but significant being, unknown yet unforgotten, utterly belonging in the universe, as much it belonged to him.