Mark 
Synopsis
Arriving without intention, or so I told myself. The ferry from Newhaven had slipped across the Channel like a quiet reckoning, and as the lights of Dieppe emerged from the mist, I felt both the strangeness of the unfamiliar and the echo’s of recognition. Thirty years had passed. The harbour waited, changed in its posture and altered by time’s differences. The gulls still spoke in riddles. The air still smelled of salt and rusted chains. But I was no longer the young boy who had once wandered these streets with a camera slung like an extension of my body. Now every frame came with reflection, not instinct.