It was a week ago today I first stepped through the weathered-grey gate. Greetings by an old soul, a poet himself, ever reverent of each stone.
An exercise in discovery – a façade I would build having expressed an understanding or taste for prose.
As I walk deeper into the past my body relaxes – inhaling the garden scent of earthen creativity – footsteps in the soil of a man’s expression.
My prose takes form on silver halide crystals – salts capturing light. A brief moment held captive from the ocean’s breath. This frozen moment revealing a man’s toil, a man’s passion, a man’s torment…..creativity.
Winding up the stones I look out from Hawk Tower – The Ocean’s timeless cycles exhale across the stones. Words flow from pen to paper. Inspiration breathes life into a man’s worn hands.
Carrying Stones – one-by-one.
From my 2008 Portfolio