Having practically grown up on Balboa Island, I’ve been all over that chunk of man-made land. Most, if not all, of my memories are bathed in the golden sun that shown down on my childhood. The sand and warm concrete of the bayfront, droplines off the public piers, and shaved ice rivers running down our arms, staining our forearms an alien blue to match our tongues.

Back then, the camera was just something that my dad carried around. Now that it is my camera, when I take it back to Balboa Island, I have a hard time finding those memories, so I’m making new ones. These however aren’t awash in the glow of day, rather they’re cloaked in the shadows of night.

This is a Balboa Island I rarely saw as a snot-nosed kid. No matter how far we were allowed to travel on our own, even as 8 and 9 year olds, we always had to be home before dinner, that is to say, before dark. The Island is a completely different place at night, one I look forward to exploring.

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