The blue, blue distance

August 13, 2013

Along the Annapolis River Often, after a moment like this one, when I stood on the dusk-varnished shoreline watching the little town in the blue, blue distance, I leave the spot carrying inside my mind a mere sensory residue: the scent of sweet mud, the sweep of a salty breeze and the buzz of katydids. Sensation and imagery come together in an almost inevitable way, and remain deep inside us for decades. The brain that propels the mind, that propels the camera, after all, is deeper than the sea and wider than the sky, isn’t it? I think Emily Dickenson wrote some such...sans the camera part. She was a poet as well an imagrapher too.

 


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