Childhood Days

Warm summer days at the seaside were a feature of my childhood holidays. Not this beach perhaps, nor even this country, but the sights and sounds of families at play are all too familiar.

Maybe now, my sandcastles are more constructs of the mind, than those made with bucket and spade. Still, I'm looking to make something out of nothing.

Hazy light, already on the wane, rakes across ancient rocks, the layers of which depict millennia of accumulated history. They make lines, indicating direction, pointing out to sea toward distant islands and stand in stark contrast against the smooth brown stone anchoring the whole composition.

Like all good sandcastles, this too will, in short order, disappear into the sea of images abound today.