A pain in my sea groyne.

Hampton beach has changed drastically since the paintings found on the beach were made. The sea is deserted in comparison barely 2 people can be witnessed traipsing along the hot; sharp shell covered sand before me. There is nothing but the wind blowing and the distinct smell of the rotting seaweed before me. There used to be beach shacks, there used to be people, there used to be something here, now there is nothing left, the grey overcast showing the pathetic fallacy supported by the grey sand.
Bottles litter the pathway, both broken and untouched a clear example of the desperate social activity founded by the beach. A single middle aged woman walks slowly behind her dog as it jumps in the air attempting to catch the non existent sea spray. The boats float calmly as the wind pushes them apart, the tides turning, the boats are spinning around, an example of the human affects and social activities created.

The marina itself a grey concrete based building, the basis for our boats, its a way of fisherman both making money and creating purpose. In an attempt to keep the beach supposedly the same they created groynes, a wall of rocks to split different regions of the beach.The groynes stop the sand from travelling too far. The concrete pathway to stop the sand and show the territory we have created for the beach, stopping the high tide.

Whilst the beach sustains itself its slowly being destroyed by us through littering and much larger damage. The beach cannot be sustained as soon there will be far too much water to be held in the little area created because of us and because of our choices.