The Snowing And Greening of Thomas Passmore (2010)
The Snowing And Greening of Thomas Passmore
“The beach is soft, white sand, free of seaweed and driftwood, and stretches in a broad, boomerang curve to define its bay. Fifty metres back from the lapping of a low tide, a fringe of dunes, sewn together with pigface and spinifex, rises and dips in a ribbon of peaks and troughs.
Slap, slap, slap.
Except for the patterns created by wind and recent rain, and the contoured tracking of this gentle, slapping tide, there isn’t another mark on this world. It’s unblemished. And there’s something deli...cious about kicking through the water, keeping pace with a shoal of minnows and their shadows (more shadow than substance), and planting my footprints, one after the other, across the wet sand, to watch them wash away again as if I’ve never been.
If I walk this beach forever, then I’ll be sculpted by the elements into a new pattern. I’ll be the driftwood sanded smooth.
I look back and see my trail erased, and all I am is what’s left standing here. To lie down and sleep – wouldn’t that be sweet?MoreLess
Slap, slap, slap.
Except for the patterns created by wind and recent rain, and the contoured tracking of this gentle, slapping tide, there isn’t another mark on this world. It’s unblemished. And there’s something deli...cious about kicking through the water, keeping pace with a shoal of minnows and their shadows (more shadow than substance), and planting my footprints, one after the other, across the wet sand, to watch them wash away again as if I’ve never been.
If I walk this beach forever, then I’ll be sculpted by the elements into a new pattern. I’ll be the driftwood sanded smooth.
I look back and see my trail erased, and all I am is what’s left standing here. To lie down and sleep – wouldn’t that be sweet?MoreLess
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