j u n e 2 0 1 4
Even in the moment, it felt like a photograph. The grainy light of late evening coalescing with the static roar of a strong river, fuming after a storm. Backlit in shredded shades of charcoal and gray.
Our silhouettes navigated the crags jutting out into the water. Rabid waves lashed at our sneakers, soaking them thoroughly. I paused to get sure footing and take inventory of the mist droplets clinging to my cheeks and the tips of my eyelashes. He scrambled over another boulder and paused there, standing upright.
The sound of the risen river’s discontent. A figure, hardly defined from the velvet night. This vast contour of a man, looking back over his shoulder and holding a kite.
Snap.
No comments:
Post a Comment