“A man's character always takes its hue, more or less, from the form and color of things about him” ~ Frederick Douglass

In its seeming solitude standing against the sea, A single chunk of glacial ice sits stranded in the crashing surf by its own size and weight. It’s ever-changing form occasionally forced and contorted into new positions by the largest waves that crash upon it. Each of these experiences always causing the hue of its character to compliment the flux of the surrounding atmosphere of the surf. In time, its form and color will eventually transform and become one with the ocean. In the moments of my own solitude here, with my own life in mind, I could somehow relate. I hoped my character throughout the crashing surf of life, in my own sunset, would hue so gracefully until I too return to the sea.