This turtle came with me on today’s walk. I found it yesterday morning when I took some torpor to the beach for a shakeup. The turtle sprawled there, about three feet from tip to flipper tip, as if swimming across the sand. Or burying eggs in it. Except one eye was gone and it stayed put even when I got close.
I’d only seen turtles this big in an aquarium or swimming past me in deep water. This turtle, this big, this close and dead stayed in my head. Twenty-five kilometres and two tides later it hadn’t left the beach either.
I don’t need reminding by the elders there’s a lesson there: endurance, steadiness, protection, grounding, patience, connection….which lesson is for me, I don’t know yet. But it was that kind of walk the whole way today.
The aircraft carcass strapped to the tow truck.A fighter jet crossing my path to land on the next base down.
When I walked this stretch last time, I slipped my phone out of my pocket and looked the other way while snapping a blurry photo of the runway lights. I didn’t want any MP thinking I was a terrorist.
Today I stand still. Focus. Keep shooting. Bring it on, I dare them in the way I plant my feet, the way I stare straight at the jet like Yuri Kochiyama would.
O boy, is it ever easy to walk through someone’s neighbourhood and borrow their struggle to get a few likes.
What am I going to go on and tell you about this one? I can’t even read it all. I like the colours and the feel of it. And that it talks about hanging in.
Did Malcolm X really say what a mess can be made by narrow-minded people?
What do I know? I’m only here for five years. I walk so I don’t go crazy. I look at stuff. Some of it hits me. Fighter jets sometimes, yeah. But look at this:Those two pines are huge in this photograph, and the car like some dinky toy in the far distance. But the actual trees aren’t much taller than me. It’s just I’m squatting there beside them, a little below them.
I like that photograph for lots of reasons. Mostly because that second on that road didn’t look a thing like it does here.
It’s not always perspective.
These are just damn big pigs.
And this really is a white mannequin showing her true colours–or vice versa–distracting me with her nonchalance and her golden bob from Ganesha, and Lakshmi, is it, behind her cocked arm?
The road, too, is its own place. Some stretches weirder than others. When I visit that place for a good while, like I did today, when I keep at it long enough, I hit that stretch where it’s like second trimester in a good pregnancy, and I’m sailing, a hairsbreadth of thrum floating me through space above the pavement, no effort needed, just being open, breathing, looking, breathing….