One quiet morning in San Francisco, I found myself standing in front of the Bay Bridge, with only the whispers of what once stood here scattered across the water. Just me, another photographer, and the slow promise of sunrise.

As the light began to shift, the fog rolled in, swallowing the bridge in seconds. The other photographer gave up and left. But I stayed.

And then, without warning, the clouds above began to catch, glowing softly in pinks and purples that melted across the bay. It was still. Surreal. Beautiful.

A reminder that in landscape photography, patience isn’t just a virtue, it’s everything.

Photo by: Bradley Basten