Sunday, September 12, 2010

oceans & skies

Lately when I breathe, I imagine the ocean. I imagine each breath as a wave: the rushing sound, the salty vapour, the peaceful way it reaches the shore and then retreats. It slows and calms and brings me to quiet memories.

For some the ocean is a daily sight, but for me it has only been visited in my travels. I've seen so many shores, I can think of many of them now, in the many countries I've been to. Each one is different depending on the day, the hour, but there is always that constant never-ending movement and deep quiet. In and out, breathing. Its grandeur similar to looking at a night sky full of stars. Overwhelmingly large, prehistoric, ever-present. Something to make you feel small, but also alive and present.

The other night I put the puppy out to pee before bed and was caught by the night's windless silence and profound starry sky. Uncomfortable and soothing at the same time. I spent a few moments, then went back in. My micro world of human coziness, watched over by the world at large.

Self-portrait in Cadiz, Spain. Travelling solo for three weeks in March 2006.

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