![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
With the sound of the sea hard on my heels
I dreamed last night of a sad, shy man with an elephant's head—less Ganesha than Joseph Merrick literalized—and an off-duty waiter who argued with me that I couldn't claim to like or dislike Chinese poetry until I'd read it in the original. When I fell back asleep, I dreamed about watching a version of "The Little Mermaid" set in a hydrothermal field, black smokers and whale falls and Pompeii worms, all mysteriously animated by Disney. Then I dreamed I had a fever, which was also the case when I woke up; I have had a very unpleasant cold since Tuesday, but I have nothing interesting to say about it. Have some photographs from Monday in Maine instead.
We did not have the worst directions in the history of Google, but we couldn't help noticing that following their slightly contradictory advice on exiting the Maine Turnpike took us to downtown Portland rather than Cape Elizabeth. Fortunately, the view from Commercial Street was lovely.
This was intended to be a photograph of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fleurdelis28 in profile, but she moved. I had this problem with waves, too.
The stairs that lead up from the parking lot at Two Lights to the sea.
And the sea the stairs lead to.
I am beginning to suspect that I need a better camera for these trips than my mother's borrowed digital antiquity, but I tried to catch, anyway, what I love about the clustering of mussels and barnacles and seaweed: the sea takes over whatever it can touch.
fleurdelis28 and the Kittery Formation. She looks very much like the gulls that watched us from the rocks as we climbed, white and black and sentinel-eyed.
Somewhere in my head, all coastlines look like this.
And if you want to know why I imprinted like a ton of bricks on the Flying Dutchman . . .
I love the clouds that build up over the water. No one's painted them properly in at least a hundred years.
The stairs that lead down into the sea.
My mother looked over my shoulder as I was uploading this picture. "And that's," she said, "what Andersen's mermaids turn into."
We did not have the worst directions in the history of Google, but we couldn't help noticing that following their slightly contradictory advice on exiting the Maine Turnpike took us to downtown Portland rather than Cape Elizabeth. Fortunately, the view from Commercial Street was lovely.
This was intended to be a photograph of
fleurdelis28 in profile, but she moved. I had this problem with waves, too.The stairs that lead up from the parking lot at Two Lights to the sea.
And the sea the stairs lead to.
I am beginning to suspect that I need a better camera for these trips than my mother's borrowed digital antiquity, but I tried to catch, anyway, what I love about the clustering of mussels and barnacles and seaweed: the sea takes over whatever it can touch.
fleurdelis28 and the Kittery Formation. She looks very much like the gulls that watched us from the rocks as we climbed, white and black and sentinel-eyed.Somewhere in my head, all coastlines look like this.
And if you want to know why I imprinted like a ton of bricks on the Flying Dutchman . . .
I love the clouds that build up over the water. No one's painted them properly in at least a hundred years.
The stairs that lead down into the sea.
My mother looked over my shoulder as I was uploading this picture. "And that's," she said, "what Andersen's mermaids turn into."
no subject
Please, feel free to steal!
the pier pylons remind me of the temple columns that rise and fall in the Bay of Naples due to the thermic conditions
I have been to Naples twice, but I don't think I have ever seen those. I will have to. Thank you.
no subject