Under The Wharf, Above The Waves (VIII)


This is the latest iteration in an ongoing (and originally unintended) series .

It’s a recurring image that appears to me, like a dream, and then demands another  projection on this blog’s screen.

I see it when I am feeling out of sorts with life.

That “in between” place; neither/nor; the netherworld.

This time around it feels like the whole coronavirus – worried world is of an uncertain mind.

We are mostly, then, somewhere under the wharf and above the waves…for now.

Stay safe people,hang on to the pilings!


Beached And Bleached


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.

Between stages.

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)