Thoughts destined to be washed away by the tides of life. |
I've been studying my cover photo for a while now, and it seems to me that it is more than just a photo of what is there that can be seen, more than just three white rocks stacked on a beach. It contains an important question about the future, about what happens long after the photographer has gone. What will happen to our pile of stones when the tide comes in? Will it topple or has the architect built this structure at a safe distance? I don't know what will happen to these words that I stack here on the sand. They may prove safely distant, or they may be swallowed up by a rush of self-doubt. They may be here for a season. They may lose their balance and be scattered by the shoreline, or be hidden away under shifting sands. Perhaps someday, the tides of life will reclaim them. Or maybe that's just a bunch of poetic, romantic nonsense. After all, this is just a blog. |
Trying to concentrate this morning, distracted by the noisy fish. I never realized how much noise a goldfish actually makes. We bought a new filter for the fish tank. It's called a "Whisper". It doesn't even do that. The thing is virtually silent. Which means that I can now hear all the noises the fish makes. Fish are not quiet. They don't glide silently through the depths with muted grace. It is not a calm and soundless world. At least not with this goldfish in it. All I can hear in the background is the constant "clink clink" as the inhabitant of the tank (sometimes called "Fred", sometimes called "Finn", but mostly called "Fish") searches for food he's overlooked amongst the gravel. "Clink, clink" goes each pebble as he picks it up in his mouth to glean the food from it and then spits it out, slamming it against the tank wall. How am I supposed to write under these conditions? |