The Beach - Day 83
Colorful chaotic specs in the sand
Soaking in the sun
Hiding from the water
Soaking in the water
Hiding from the sun
But everyone
Having fun
Let’s get a little closer
Interactive interventions sweep across the sand
Chasing down the rebels
Cheering on the reluctant
Chasing down the relunctant
Cheering on the rebels
Finding seashells
Building castles
Let’s get a little closer
Dynamic diversity gives us pause
Flipping fish
Stand off crabs
Flipping crabs
Standoff fish
Freedom’s wish
Or tasteful dish
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Previous posts for this challenge
Day 1: The Pendulum
Day 2: Half In - Half Out
Day 3: Names Will Always Hurt Me
Day 4: Turning
Day 5: No Longer
Day 6: Equilibrium
Day 7: Entangled
Day 8: Shattered
Day 12:Beat Ball WINNING ENTRY! (Intermediate category)
Day 15: The Golden Rule
Day 16: Panic
Day 19: Birthday
Day 20: Bar Room Blues
Day 21:Victory WINNING ENTRY!
Day 22: Just Another Day
Day 23: charming Knights
Day 24: Thank the Gods
Day 25:The Circle of Life WINNING ENTRY!
Day 26:Try Harder
Day 27:Up, Up and Away
Day 28: Grandchild
Day 30: Streams of Life
Day 33:Pep Talk
Day 34: First Steps
Day 35 Passengers
Day 36: Tools
Day 37:Spirit Fruit
Day 38: Perspective
Day 39:Divine Feminine
Day 40: Princess
Day 41: Trading
Day 42: Sky Gazer
Day 43: My Basement is Flooded
Day 44: When Two Spirits Meet
Day 46: Gems
Day 47: Bridges
Day 49: Layers
Day 50: Light
Day 52: Tula
Day 53: Silhouettes
Day 54: Point of vie
Day 55: Hope
Day 56: Feather
Day 57: At Least That’s What They Say
Day 58: Leaking
Day 61: Lift Your Head
Day 62: Make Way
Day 63: Congested
Day 64: Just Kick It
Day 65: Definition
Day 66: Transitions
Day 67: Ellen
Day 68 I Wonder
Day 69: Trinity
Day 70: Palette
Day 71: Daydreamer
Day 72: Call of the Wild
Day 73: Sanctuary
Day 74: Beyond the veil
Day 75: Fallen
Day 76: Marvels of Magic
Day 77: True Colors
Day 78: Ripplers
Day 79: Anarchy
Day 82: Lift Off
Let's get a little closer
This line that repeats makes me think that it is core. The title: "the beach", tells me that it is the means to develop the idea to pose: diversity. Symbology also gives us the traces, the fish: movement, freedom within the water. The crabs: recoil, if the flips can not be returned, they can not retreat. However, it can become a rich delicacy.
Then, the beach suggests a different meeting between themselves, although they seem opposite, it is the opposite. Good job, honey.
You've made me smile with this one. If you have not read it already, you may want to check Virginia Woolf's "Monday or Tuesday" ♥
Lazy and indifferent, shaking space easily from his wings, knowing his way, the heron passes over the church beneath the sky. White and distant, absorbed in itself, endlessly the sky covers and uncovers, moves and remains. A lake? Blot the shores of it out! A mountain? Oh, perfect—the sun gold on its slopes. Down that falls. Ferns then, or white feathers, for ever and ever——
Desiring truth, awaiting it, laboriously distilling a few words, for ever desiring—(a cry starts to the left, another to the right. Wheels strike divergently. Omnibuses conglomerate in conflict)—for ever desiring—(the clock asseverates with twelve distinct strokes that it is midday; light sheds gold scales; children swarm)—for ever desiring truth. Red is the dome; coins hang on the trees; smoke trails from the [Pg 42]chimneys; bark, shout, cry "Iron for sale"—and truth?
Radiating to a point men's feet and women's feet, black or gold-encrusted—(This foggy weather—Sugar? No, thank you—The commonwealth of the future)—the firelight darting and making the room red, save for the black figures and their bright eyes, while outside a van discharges, Miss Thingummy drinks tea at her desk, and plate-glass preserves fur coats——
Flaunted, leaf-light, drifting at corners, blown across the wheels, silver-splashed, home or not home, gathered, scattered, squandered in separate scales, swept up, down, torn, sunk, assembled—and truth?
Now to recollect by the fireside on the white square of marble. From ivory depths words rising shed their blackness, blossom and penetrate. Fallen the book; in the flame, in the smoke, in the momentary sparks—or now voyaging, the marble square pendant, minarets [Pg 43]beneath and the Indian seas, while space rushes blue and stars glint—truth? or now, content with closeness?
Lazy and indifferent the heron returns; the sky veils her stars; then bares them.