Wenderholm, NZ. March 2020
Washed up and trapped on the rocks below a cliff, beneath the hot sun, a bleached out log speaks of the netherworld.
Defying the elements.
Light, wind and water may continue to shape that which has no longer any cause to be concerned by it.
Where it grew, what it sheltered – none of that matters now.
Lying in state; in a state of transition.
From expansion to deterioration.
And back again…
(see Beach And Bleached for more glimpses of the place between)