At first, I had my doubts about bringing someone along to my summer retreat. But there’s just something about Maggie, an indescribable little trait that makes her necessary for any adventure. And summers are the most adventurous part of the year.

She sat back on the wet, clumpy sand as she admired her handiwork. She had insisted on wearing a bathing suit, even though there was no chance of anyone splashing through the ice cold waves. It was one of those red retro swimsuits, that you’d see on a pinup girl from the forties, no strings, lots of coverage, but undeniably adorable. She had on a floppy red hat to match, and she wore a pair of cat-eye glasses we found at an old roadside antique store in Charleston. Without her noticing, I snapped a picture of her, leaned back on her elbows, watching the surf, my own personal forties pin-up girl.

It was nice to have the camera along. I intended to document the entire summer in a spectrum of black and white. Just me, the camera, and Maggie.