A father walks to his boat. Behind him, a lake is disappearing, exposing reed roots in splintered earth –– another dry season with no end. Eyes closed, alpacas perch in the wild land bulldozed by guns and steel. As grey clouds engulf the mountain ridge, the state of things, too, gets out of focus. • This is humanity, through barter and toil, wonders and longing, dreaming of forever knowing only finity; yearning for kingdoms long-lived promising only affliction; cloaked in progress yet still saddened by regrets. • Every decision sacrifices what could’ve been. • Tomorrow morning, the motor will rumble, and the father takes the kids to school. As floating islands fade into unfinished concretes in shallower water, the boat comes to a stop. The father watches his kids frolic off the boat with their backpacks into a world unexplained by cycles of harvests. • Then one night –– The little ones trust-fall onto haystacks, kicking their legs so high, cheeks rosy and eyes dazzled by starlight. The father, cradling soup in a stone pot, mid-step, in awe, remembers it all.
Stunning, thank you for capturing this and sharing it Erica