I have had a fascination, maybe an obsession, with water for as long as I remember. I prefer to be in it, if not in than on and failing that let me stare at it. Watching my childhood sand castles fall to the continued impertinent rolling in of waves and tide captivated me. It was but a miniature version of what happens all around the globe.  I grew up in a small Texas fishing village that was underwater at the hint of a tropical storm, from there I moved to a North Carolina coastal fishing village that went under water with the lunar cycles. Now, much of the coastal areas of the planet have reason to watch their own erosion, subsidence and the rising tides reshape their world. I believe that those people who do not go out on the ocean and witness it’s power and beauty may not understand what happens with the rushing water borne on a storm. Currents, tides and runoff change the land, scouring some here, depositing some there. It can be beautiful or terrifying. This can manifest into the magic of an ox-bow forming in a river or a beach house undermined and falling into the ocean.