There are millions of flies aloft all at once. They create a fragment of symphony, a sustained combination of harmonies, the small having a higher frequency than the large and different again from the baritone bees. The sound is quiet but persistent and all around. In the evening the swallows swoop in fast arcs, sounding their bright call and, presumably catching a few insects in the act.
some of the flies hover at eye-level and in thick clouds. I had to pull long strands of seeded grass to use as a rhythmic flail while walking along the road.
It could be the cows, the farming, the silage that draws them in such numbers.
Rounding the tight and steep bend on the road from Peters house down to Barlogue, the sea comes suddenly into view. This was taken at about 9pm in the evening.
Not a breath of wind shifted tethered boats nor roused the waters.
No wind blew my shadow around either. It is wildly distorted, seeming tiny in a big landscape, whereas in reality I could have reached forward and touched the stones.
Along with wondering how light could bend in such a manner, I wondered also about the procedure involved in building this wall. Which stone was laid first and did the builder proceed from left to right or right to left....
The neighbors cat is contemplating the same question but from another perspective involving the placement of flagstones.
all the while knowing you would never ask the same question of the arrangement of ripples in water.
...here is a better puzzle...
...left to right? or right to left?
the constant fracturing and shedding of the underlying rock is perhaps closer to the movement of water. This was a fresh spill. Ancient and of the moment all at once.
more shadows.....
figure on ground....
............
