August 4, 2018
At loggerheads in West Palm
(With extracts from “Ode to the Sea” by Pablo Neruda.
I am still angry.
Three days later and I am walking on the nests of the Loggerhead turtles.
Three days ago, I had my first real Twitter war and the wounds and scars are still fresh. I took my first vacation in four years and followed my family to visit my friend Daniel who handed me my first lesson in photography.
In West Palm beach everything moves to the sound of empty. The aged streets, hotel parking lot, CVS, movie theatre, and beach all stand in a hush. The beautifully manicured hedges and grass rustles slowly to the sound of stillness.
With my mind filled with the words of Brutus, Judas Iscariot, and Guy Fawkes, I walked into the almost abandoned beach to sit with Neruda.
“Here surrounding the island,
There΄s sea. But what sea?
It΄s always overflowing. Says yes,
Then no, Then no again, And no, Says yes In blue, In sea spray
Raging, Says no, And no again. It can΄t be still.
It stammers, ... My name is sea.”
I wanted to be distant. I did not want to discern red from blue state.
I wanted to be cold and angry and hateful. And so I casted my lens to catch images that were distant at first. I walked 3 miles spewing more fumes on the dry sand than the rushing waters that slapped the stubborn shore. But as I passed beachgoers, the I am - resurfaced.
“Oh Sea, This is your name.
Oh comrade ocean, Don΄t waste time, Or water, Getting so upset,”
And so these ten images have to be viewed while listening to this poem. It’s me expunging the feelings of hate from my skin. I realized that to be, I have to be true to who I am - regardless of all the pollution I read or see on my walk.
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