In the Wind they Waver

Okay, this is my "French movie moment" for the trip so far....

I was feeling tired and somewhat overwhelmed a few days ago whilst in my hotel in Marmaris. New locale, new people, new language, didn't really know anybody - a pretty normal reaction when you think about it, really. I laid back in my bed and looked over at my clothes drying in the sunlight. The wind had caught them and they danced slowly in its embrace. I lay transfixed, pleased that things had quieted down into a such a moment. What, however, was I looking at? It was a beautiful sight, yes, but something more - a beautiful sentiment maybe. That's a start.

So this vision, it pleases the eye and soothes the soul, yet, still -- what is it? It was not designed to do this, so can it be art? Maybe, like a good dream, it is an assortment of elements thrown together, seemingly at random, that, for a few brief moments, holds our attention with a certain wonderful totality. But who can take pictures of dreams?

Does it mean anything to call it an "extemporaneous collage"? These big words seem to strip it of its worth.

Or maybe there is no worth there at all, at least not so much as to merit mentioning. For when the sunlight left my clothes in the wind, and they were left fluttering in the shade, they seemed so drab - as unremarkable as the thousands of eyes that flee from our own every day.



Word of the day:
Ahududu - raspberries
A-hu-doo-doo