Nothing made sense as the color of the pregnant sun slowly descended below the horizon. A pungent yellow filled its mind as abstract words slowly formed into unrecognizable formations. What was going on in its head? It looked forward contemplating the moment for what it was, but what it was was a mystery it could not resolve.

The buck continued to contemplate life in its own framework trying to relate the sensory overload to rigid categories it understood. But the pieces did not fit; squared circles, and circular triangles, everything seemed so strange in the dying yellow light.

These are the strange musings I imagine are stuck in the buck's mind while I photograph it. It is said that even if a lion could speak English, we would not understand it. This takes some time to wrap your head around, but as soon as the penny drops, you will understand. But in any case, these are some more photographs I took of the wildlife that surrounded us. I imagined that whilst this waterbuck contemplated the meaning of life, the southern yellow-billed hornbill teased it, scratching its own head, empty of these existential thoughts. I hope you enjoy the photographs and my philosophical musings if you read them!

It was not far from the seeping philosophical stench of the buck that a bird with a nose way too big for its own sanity sat perched on a branch overlooking the ordeal. For it, the stench smelled of an unfamiliar problem it could not deal with, it did not have the capacity to think such thoughts.

But the buck was persistent and the abstract forms should be forced into whatever hole they belong, all in the name of meaning and understanding and eloquent flow of thoughts. The abrupt stifling of thoughts could not be permitted, the pregnant sun on the horizon an indication of the urgency to grasp at something that made sense.

Yet, all of this flew past the mind of the bird scratching its own head out of spite. From the butterfly's wings, chaos ensues on the other side of the planet, but from the scratching of its head, chaos erupted in the mind of the buck.

Then nothing made sense in the floating disarray of displayed chaotic abstract objects. Sensory overload; nothing fitted in the premade structures. And the buck's mind collapsed in on itself creating an epistemic black hole that pulled everything with it. The pregnant yellow sun became a ripe fruit ready to be plucked from the sky; the persistent scratching of the bird became a poetic masterpiece paired with the zooming of a fly; the strange figure standing mere meters away taking photographs become a god-like figure towering over everything with the click of a button.

And then with a sudden crash of everything, the bird sat perched up straight, again mocking the stench of the buck stewing in its own thoughts.

And the buck's wife looked at it with dismay. Why again? She thought to herself. Why again with this nonsense?

The buck turned away, not knowing who it was in this strange world full of concepts that did not make sense.

Postscriptum, or Chaotic Nonsense

This post turned out to be more of an abstract art piece than a philosophical reflective piece. I hope that, if you read it, that it made some sense. If not, I hope you enjoyed the photographs.

In any case, happy photographing, and stay well.

All of the photographs are my own, taken with my Nikon D300 and Tamron 300mm lens. The musings are also my own, albeit inspired by the bird scratching its head.