Clay, sand, water and wind are locked in a never-ending performance at the edge of this continent. The outcome of their synergy changes daily. So despite the vivid beauty these patterns displayed today, they will be gone, altered, replaced by new patterns tomorrow.
Far overhead, an enormous jumbo jet rode the updraft from the Pacific, ascending tens of thousands of feet on its voyage toward Asia. Closer to the beach a flock of seagulls was cackling. Offshore, a set of the huge waves surfers long for gave way to smaller swells.
The tide was retreating, leaving stones, shells, seaglass, and other gems on the sand. For now the patterns I was photographing were safe.
It is at moments like this that the fragile nature of art and life begins to overwhelm me. There is literally nothing I can do to save any of the beauty I see around me. It all will pass.
My imperfect photos and even more imperfect words will remain for a while until they too dissolve into dust, even as new patterns appear on the beach, and new eyes arrive to worship them.
-30-
1 comment:
what amazing pictures- and the text which went along with them is so profound. I have thought of this many times- wishing to capture these images and experiences forever- but alas, it is not possible. If we can only preserve them for those who come after us- so at least they will have something to enjoy.
Post a Comment