Perhaps it is because clouds are camels one minute, streaming hair the next, that we gather like sea birds come to rest upon the ocean’s churning waves while making our way to the pebbled shore. Water kept on the move is made to do things; when static is as wasted and provoking as a buried talent.
Maybe this natural flow of creative spontaneity restores buoyancy to our ancient conversation between the sea and the seashore.
Dedicated to the memory of Karl Fisher: Feb. 20, 1960 - Feb. 20, 2013.
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