So, I’ve been scanning old photos, fascinated with the passage of time … and the way a moment can be captured … suspended … even tho’ other moments have superceded it in the linear march of our days.
Time is linear, of course …and then again, it’s not. Moments get snagged in our consciousness and we circle back to them again and again.
That’s just the way it is. It’s rich, isn’t it?
So I’ve been thinking about how I’ve had this lifelong feeling about the magic of water … how it’s especially magical where it laps up against the land. Two elements so different … touching but not merging. Why doesn’t the shoreline water turn into mud and melt into the lake? Why, indeed?!
Anyway … in coming upon this picture of me, I felt like I could see a bit of the birth of that fascination .. circa 1953.