I was trying to take a photo of this shipwreck on the beach. The image I had in mind was void of people. So when this couple decided that six feet away from the highly-trafficked (and highly-photographed) shipwreck would be a good place to watch the waves, I was a little upset. There was a precious moment where there weren't any people climbing around in the shipwreck itself, but I couldn't get a clear shot from the angle I wanted. The couple was still there... seemingly oblivious to my attempts to photograph the ship. With some frustration, I raised my camera's viewfinder to my eye, and took the photo anyway. I could always photoshop them out, I reasoned. I never did. In this isolated moment, their apparent disinterest in the scene I was obsessively trying to photograph became funny to me. My original vision for the photo would have been fine, but unexciting and unoriginal. Something about the couple's presence made the image feel distinct. Maybe there are metaphorical shipwrecks in our lives that we want to turn our back to and move on from. Maybe the right person—or people—can help us do that.