volcano - 1-23-2011 at 08:42 AM
would Osprey please repost the piece of writing from a couple years ago (I've tried to find it)..of the beach walk with the fog, fading self,
disappearing footprints etc? such incredible imagery..i wanted to share it with a friend.
Osprey - 1-23-2011 at 10:19 AM
Found it.
Soft Times in Bahia Palmas
The ocean water temp is still above 70º here in Palmas Bay and we are nudging the month of march. Great weather for beach walking when the winds
abate. This whole week has been calm so I’ve been going down to the shore, getting a little exercise. Most days I’m the only one on the beach; one or
two vehicles on the beach wait for their owners in small boats who are taking advantage of the break in the windy weather.
Every day on the beach is different. Yesterday was a watercolor day, a day without sharp edges, a pastel sea with a spongy horizon hiding in the
distant mist. Everything found a way to meld with something close and soft and equally indistinct. That must be the thing that sooths and calms –
every vista lacks order, defies the human compulsion to align and straighten, to exact order from all things around them. From mountains to shore, sea
and sky one long sloping, sliding curve of uniquely undefined space. A chunk of my personal helix must be still walking with the cave people because I
feel at peace in this fuzzy chaos. The gulls and terns seem to pay me little notice. As I grow old in the place I might be fading like an old
Polaroid, like a digital image a little underdeveloped? Not enough contrast? Inchoate? Not enough pixels?
Seems this kind of space is perfect for small children and old people. Nothing to bump into, everywhere a soft place to land. No Sharp Objects
Allowed.
Maybe this is some kind of subtle identity theft. I’m losing tone and color. I keep looking back to make sure I’m leaving footprints in the wet sand.
Of course when I walk in the foam I leave no mark, no memory. Nobody saw me go down there or return. Just the birds flapped up to let me know I was
intruding. Little fluffy pests would make poor witnesses.
When I got back to the house, washed the sand from my feet in the outdoor shower by the wall my neighbor took notice, came over to greet me.
“Hi, you been to the beach?” he says.
“Yeah.”
“I was down there myself. I didn’t see you.”
“Yeah, it’s one of those days.”
BajaBlanca - 1-23-2011 at 04:06 PM
beautiful.
desertcpl - 1-23-2011 at 05:41 PM
DITTO
Sublime...
Mulegena - 1-23-2011 at 07:58 PM
Our Osprey is among the finest of writers.
The topics he covers are varied and show a wide knowledge base from which he draws, technically and intellectually, I found.
I've also discovered that most, if not all, of his stories carry his signature which marks him as an outstanding writer: the reader is always taken in
by the visuals of the story and either is left with a deeper understanding of himself in reflection as is the case in this story, or as in others
there's a twist at the end that concludes somewhere other than where the reader thought.
We're really treated to the musings of a grand author here on Nomad.
In gratitude, Friend, thanks.
Paula - 1-23-2011 at 08:16 PM
Osprey, this one is lovely. It reminds me of a photo you posted on some sunrise, or sunset, or beach thread. Just sand water and sky, all soft.
Lovely.