The water dances and sparkles all around you. It claims you. In the distance pockets of islands, rich with soil, trees and perhaps nothing else. You think about the story again but it all seems so epic and sweeping and your weak with all your mind's and imagination's failings.
You follow the stream down to were it has forged a pathway through a wall of reeds and it is there where you see the conflict, the struggle and climax, as the lazy water from the stream is pushed and tossled by the ripple of the sea.
You wish you had the right camera to take its picture and be able to show how alive it is in its slow solitary purpose. You would zoom in and show the diversity of color and motion.
If you were a painter you could show the way the water glistens and dances down the minuscule incline. You could mix paints just right to show how the moisture of the stream spreads out from the natural construction of its beds before returning to dry grey pebbles.
BAR HARBOR MAINE Labor Day Weekend, 2009
So, that was my weekend. How was yours?