By Julie Paterson
WHILE the sun heads west and I’m wandering the beaches what seems familiar and everyday can become something else entirely with the magic box of a camera, a tilt of the body and the angle of light.
WHILE the sun heads west and I’m wandering the beaches what seems familiar and everyday can become something else entirely with the magic box of a camera, a tilt of the body and the angle of light.
I often feel I’ve stumbled across new life forms of unknown origins in some primordial land.
In a blizzard of back light a piece of seaweed transforms into something vulnerable, yet to awaken.
Scale becomes unanchored; am I hovering 100 miles above looking down upon ancient geologic deltas. Or am I looking through a microscope revealing the interstices of the connective tissue of the elements?
In pools of water wind blows across the surface, tickling the refracted light currents to move and quiver in magnificent patterns.
Creature trails make hieroglyphic drawings in wet sand.
Why oh why on earth do people want to go into outer space? It’s already interplanetary out here on these beaches.