WALKING ON THIN ICE

we walked some side alleys inside the walled city… re-walked many due to double dead end. there’s no logic, no pattern in alley layout - it’s like following fractals.

i stand on sand as lady jogs. the ocean rolls in, slides out, caresses my bare feet, leaves magic behind. the wind blows retreating waves into side-ways ripple, refracting lasered light on water bottom. stone, pebble, shell, shard act as barrier to sand-rich retreating waters - cast dancing shape of sandless shadow in water’s path. constant wind blows low over beach, creating tiny sand dunes skipping in glisten of silicon flash. the sand surface has multiple textures, from moonscape madness through cross-hatched basket weave in dark and light, the water wetting rippled edges so sun can flare from angle edge. dark silt washes sandy texture in textured fill. it’s an effervescence ephemeral world of hit skip beauty. it’d be easy to film these moments too - they’re constant, repetitive, predictable. there’s an odd thought - predictable moments of magic.