The Desert of the Real

Splendid, safe, glowing isolation. Like the sun shines only for me. The landscape changes before my eyes. It teems with life waiting to be discovered.

The sky like a mottled blue canvas, animated and moving in concert with the sun. Shades of blue, grey, brown and green form the backdrop. Pungent reds, oranges and yellows spattered vividly across this tropical masterpiece.

I feel a kiss of breeze brush my face, instantly calming me and stopping my watch. All still and serene. I open my eyes to drink in vast sandflats like desert speckled with distant pools of water like mirages tempting a weary traveller.

My footsteps punctuate the stillness in a measured staccato and send ripples through the glassy water. Toes gouging impermanent prints in the sand as I move further from shore.

Later on the sandbank I gaze upon the work of my kind. Neat lawns perched upon weathered ledges. Alien objects and hewn tree trunks the remnants of that which has been ripped asunder to create uninterrupted views and safe spaces in an unforgiving place.

I am momentarily distracted from this soundwave by patterns in the sand. Perfect sandgrain spheres arranged purposefully as if to speak to me in Crustacean.

I feel like I am a single audience member watching a symphony conducted to the rythmn of the tides. Crescendo! The illusion of tameness and safety I held explodes in my mind detonated by the realisation that despite man-made comforts at hand, I am a visitor here in this galebrushed and wild place.

The biting of sandflies lays my serenity to rest as they feast on my body. Each bite a messenger reminding me that I am a part of this place here and now and that my presence here requires an adjustment imperceptible to me, yet very real.

As I rise to move again, the landscape is singed and locked into my memory by the setting sun. Turning to leave, I wish to not forget this moment. With that wish still resonating, the sea breeze graciously hands me a key in the form of a sweet birdsong floating on a gentle wind.

The Desert of the Real

IdKid

Sydney, Australia

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Artist's Description

My footsteps punctuate the stillness in a measured staccato and send ripples through the glassy water.

Artwork Comments

  • burntblue
  • IdKid
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