We all leave traces in the tracks…
We all leave traces in the tracks we tread a hundred, a thousand, a million times or, quite simply enough, just the once. The places in which we have lingered, regardless of time dwelt there, have the power to leave irremovable impressions upon us, from just a magical moment in a dizzying foreign clime to... View Article
We all leave traces in the tracks we tread a hundred, a thousand, a million times or, quite simply enough, just the once. The places in which we have lingered, regardless of time dwelt there, have the power to leave irremovable impressions upon us, from just a magical moment in a dizzying foreign clime to a lifetime traversing the same path day in, day out.
We weave memories certainly of impressive buildings we have visited or of historic monuments but what of the softer ambience of a place? The clouds, the smells, the feelings? And what of reflections? Those rippled representations, those eyes that peer back as if to say ‘there’s two of us, you and I.’
We find reflections in bodies of water; the tireless river that relentlessly carves its way, or in panes of glass; the eyes to a city, and yet even in emotions we find reflections when we feel a certain way, like a storm cloud in our bad moods or the beauty of a blooming flower when we feel flushed with love. We are all narcissists of our own creation, sometimes losing ourselves entirely to our whims, fancies and thoughts.
As humans, we have the liberty to move our image from place to place, gazing inquisitively or catching flashes in a flurry of circumstance, but what of the city frame, which must remain motionless? Forever peering at all it sees and the echoes it hears, a screen to nature as life unfolds upon it, captivated and unmovable, save for the wind, a bird, penny or fist that may shatter it.
“A reflection is Earth’s eye; looking into which the beholder measures the depth of his own nature.”
Photo taken by Sally Gurten.
Photo taken by Noel Eaton.
Photo taken by Noel Eaton.