Tuesday, September 23, 2008

A Vague Uneasiness

As I write this very brief post, I'm staring out a set of large sliding glass doors, looking at the broad expanse of the Atlantic Ocean outside my hotel. From this vantage point, there are only grey, cloud-blemished skies streaked with darker grey lines with white linen edges and endless expanses of grey-green water, its surface deceptively smooth in the aggregate but I can feel it seething with anger just beneath the surface.

The vastness of the sky and the sea envelopes me like thick wax, making it impossible for me to stretch or turn or move away. I'm transfixed by the mere size of what I see.

I'd compare it to glancing outdoors for a moment, only to see, but not feel, the entire sun's surface just a few feet away. The sky and the ocean are huge beyond words and thoughts. Whoever could have been so silly and unwise to think we could ever tame them? Why would we ever want to?


YourFireAnt said...

Where ARE you? That you can see sea and sky outside a hotel window.


Springer Kneeblood said...

Miami area. But today all I see is heavy rain and the tumult of massive black clouds and a very, very angry sea that wants its revenge.

YourFireAnt said...

Since I commented I read further and discovered that you were away at a conference. See, I might not've known that you were saving us from a naked photo either.