2024 March #010. There's a silence in the observation, a moment suspended as the horizon beckons with a cool whisper. A symphony of bleached sunlight filters through, casting long shadows that seem to stretch infinitely, reaching for something just out of grasp. The sea holds stories, each wave a messenger of the deep, endlessly traversing but never staying.
The eye, that omnipresent orb, watches over the scene, a guardian or a spectator? It is a puzzle, the patina of the gaze infusing the world with a surreal hue. A vessel floats, teetering on the cusp of the known and the uncharted. Is it departing, arriving, or eternally waiting?
Extended, the path to the water blurs the lines, where does the solid end and the liquid begin? This interstice, this breath, invites a dance with the elements, a chance to step beyond the threshold. To linger here is to converse with the possibilities that flicker at the peripheries of vision.
It's a return to a place never visited, familiar in its distance, a call to the wanderer within. The figure stands, a nexus of past reflections and future inklings, absorbing the quiet energy that throbs just beneath the surface of things. Space breathes, time pauses, and for a moment, borders dissolve, washing away the notion that we are anything but waves ourselves, darkly returning through horizons.
Rodeyo
