in the wind
mesmerizing
creatures are born
dancing through
the ages still
wordless
in the wind
she yells the words
of a thousand monsters
emerging from the ocean

An Ode to the Girl Who I Could Never Write

She stands above the sea and the wind caresses her hair. She is a mystery that I cannot unlock. Her hair becomes sea monsters emerging from the depths of a world we cannot fathom. The stink of dead fish and decaying birds hangs thick in the air. The sound of crashing boats lingers on and on and on. I cannot see through the windows of the boats, where does she hide? But I can smell the odour of the monsters emerging from her hair.

She stands above the ocean and contemplates her own life, her own motifs. The wind in her hair makes her drunk, she cannot fathom the greatness of being at this stage. The ocean lures her, the monsters hidden in its depths pull her, but she does nothing but stare at her own reflection in the waves that keep on pushing ever deeper onto the land. She finds inspiration in these magical moments, in which she loses herself. Music plays in her ears, each crashing wave another piece of momentum, arousing in her ancient power, generating even more movement.

This week, I find the girl standing above the ocean, similar to the wanderer above the sea of fog, contemplating life, the sublime, the beauty of existence. I join her, I coax her with philosophical meanderings through boats and lies, gestures aimed at arousing sea monsters and luring her to the depths of my mind.

I hope that you enjoy these photographs of the intimate moment in which I took her to the sea.

Wanderer at Sea

| contemplation: she thinks because she is |

| wanderer: she sees herself in the sea |

| portrait one: the limitless potential of becoming more |

| portrait two: expansive thoughts on the dock harbouring nothing but failed dreams |

| looking away one: monsters emerge as the wind begins to sing |

| looking away two: conjuring up images of sea creatures thick with the smell of death |

| arrival: as they come out of the depths she laughs at her power |

| hidden: hiding behind her own confidence she sees them |

| walking away: diverging from the straight line |

| limitless: carrying on forever |

| at the end: she sits and wait for another story to emerge |

Postscriptum, or So the Story Ends

She stares at the camera as I click away. The story ends as I put the camera away. She smiles and we end the day with ice cream and music. For a moment, the monsters are hidden away behind thick layers of time that will eventually run out but here we are enjoying the moment.

In any case, I hope you enjoyed the photographs of yet another instalment of the girl series.

Keep well, and happy photographing.