For a long time now, I’ve had a special place in my heart for Florida.
I spent summers there as a kid, tearing around on a bike near the mangroves, coming alive in the steamy green heat. It’s a nostalgic place for me, and like most nostalgic places, it strikes me as beautiful.
Florida’s beauty is glaring: like a particularly striking woman who sports bright makeup and an orchid in her hair. You can’t help but look at her, but if she smudged off the dark lipstick and traded her red dress for black, you might notice the pool of light in the hollow of her collarbone.
The sun sliding slow over her shoulders.
The subtler magic.
I guess that’s why I’ve come to like Florida best when she’s photographed in monochrome.
The photos that follow are quiet ones, collected during a lazy, contemplative week in Punta Gorda. While there are lovelier snapshots of the sunshine state — oceans full of sundazzle, and foam-swept crashing surf — I think these represent a gentler beauty that others may miss.