I first stepped on to Coney Island a few weeks after I moved to New York City during the summer of 1976. It was a sea of people sitting on the filthiest sand I had seen in my life. It's a different place now; safe, clean, and like the city itself, occupied by people from every country in the world. On the beach, whether dressed with the modest clothes dictated by religious beliefs or as half-naked mermaids enjoying the ocean breeze, captured by my camera, we all seem the same.