Sunday, August 5

stories of the ocean and the moon


sx-70 camera, polaroid 600 expired film
(from my florida trip last year)

The full moon a few nights ago was so bright it called me out of bed, where I should have been trying to fall asleep, to peek out the window upon a lawn bathed in blue light, every blade of grass outlined and casting a dramatic tiny shadow, like a forest of green-blue spears. The butterflies were sleeping somewhere down there; the cicadas filling the night with song. The trees were tall and dark like ragged piney cliffs rising up to tower above the house, and caught in their arms was the perfectly round, shining moon.

This morning at the ocean I left Cedar behind with Tim, only the second time I have done so for his entire life, and went upon the beach. The water was warm and soft running over my lapis lazuli toes, bits of cobalt sea glass and shells with holes in them, perfect for collecting and stringing. Pieces of foam broke off of the edges of the waves and dashed themselves to bubbles on the sand. I could feel myself filling up with milk again (sea-milk, briny and sweet?) and knew I'd turn back towards the house soon, but the ocean was so silvery bright, so polished. It seemed to bring to me thoughts I haven't thought in a while ~ mysterious, probing, delightful insinuations and anticipations of creativity, delicate and reaching and unformed.

These kinds of things make me very very happy.

xo brooke