The jellyfish dead on the beach washing up to shore stranded on the coast was the first sign of homesickness. Also the refinery towers rusted storage tanks and rocky embankments. A weak blackened stream emerging from a natural canyon or well a ditch or some word that is placed between canyon and ditch. After turning back reencountered footprints rounded voluptuous marks smooth and disparate each one a unique impacting. Elicited a certain sensitivity a tenderness a softness of heart and watching the marks the question whose footprints are those and who has walked this way and imagined a body and the body was smooth and tender as well and a sense of loss permeated from shoulders into elbows and back down to ankles as if this body were submerged repeatedly in water like laundry in a washing tub gently by hands of habitual work. All around the spray of the sea sandy rocks coated by a yellowish orangish algae a wall built to protect the homes in the distance on both sides towers rise up and it seemed yet to be everything the word beautiful was invented to signify. But then again the dead jellyfish refinery towers rusted storage tanks potholed pavement on the way down dusty embankments plants suffocated by dust and the drainage stream I could not cross. Also algae and walls and industrial tourism maybe are not what beauty is. Whatever the case may be the space in this heart reserved for this day will not include what is beautiful. This heart stakes a claim to what was amiss. And all of the wrongness made one pine for home.

(Foto by Abraham Palafox. See Abraham´s fotoblog here. Gracias, Abraham.)

(This is a reprint from the Catalogue of Feeling.)

Tweet

Pin It