The Night
Copyright Ernest Morin 2008
It is also my favorite time to photograph. At night the city seems to be more of her old self, the city I knew as a child. The city of wharves and men in smelly oil skins heading out for that eternal struggle with the Sea. These are the streets I roamed with the old fisherman I knew as Nono, who spent 40 years on those vessels that still roam the night to the echo of ships bells and fog horns...and an inky blackness few ashore will ever know. Gloucester still retains her very mythical nature. These document a series of emotional states American life fosters.
Night is the time of Myth, of Dream, of our soul and all it’s wanderings...
© Morin