Monday, December 26, 2011

Bluebottles. Beware.

I believe there are landlubbers among you - those who prefer not to venture to the oceans
or the beaches that bind us to them. I don't understand you. 
But as a common courtesy I offer this warning: 

If you find yourselves, one day, at the water,
and are taken with curious luminous blue mush
that globs and stretches around these creatures...
Sometimes a single one can have tentacles metres long! 
Almost invisible in the ocean waves!...
BEWARE. They really, really hurt.

It will be tempting, though.  Their luminescence is bewitching.  We have all known beauty
dangerous to touch, and we have known it all the way to the inevitable contact.

Someone passing by said I was crazy to lie on the sand to take these photographs - 
next to the blue tentacles that waited, languid, along the shoreline for waves to deliver them excruciatingly around limbs and weave them murderously through tangled tresses. 

Maybe. But that's what Bluebottles do, 
like silent blue Sirens from the ocean depths they lure you closer and closer.

And closer.

All images and text (c) Sarah Lorien 2011

The Memory of Water

Infinitely elegant is the language of water -
revealing its memories, hopes and dreams with precision and melody. 
Each tiny drop resonant with life.  Every grain of sand placed perfectly.

These are the stories of this world.

The memory of water - voyagers.

The memory of water - love.

The memory of water - moon.

The memory of water - music.

The memory of water - is speaking.

All images and text (c) Sarah Lorien 2011