Pigeon Keys, Honduras - A Key
HONDURAS | Sunday, 26 August 2007 | Views [349]
Key. An endless ocean surrounding this solitary marvel. As if a target were placed perfectly here, now. Green to white to turquoise to blue to deep. An island, small, concealed, tight and a target of the vast body stretching in all directions from this center. Exploration and wonder come to mind, but simple. Not overwhelming, but intimate.
Sand. Melting into the ground. A perfect white blanket absorbing waves that creep onto the stretches of earth. The water moves higher, farther with each pass: of time, of wind, of sea. Melting, land into ocean, dirt into water.
Wave. Coming in from unfathomable depths, unreachable lengths. Carrying its form, its sounds and all of its life. The wind carrying it from great distances and guiding it to our familiar, Land. It tumbles up the incline announcing its presence with its beats; crashing and flowing make its music.
Ocean. Mysterious, deep, dark blue. Plunging in, down, the pressure weighs heavy on the human form. Life all around and in every movement. Colors brighter, here in this darkness than in any other light. Blues in every shade, vibrant yellows, deep purples, neon purples, fluorescent greens. Floating and moving on a background of browns, deep greens, the darkest blues. Up to the air, to the surface. The water moves unruly. A mystery underneath glass.
Horizon. Distant. The eye unable to grasp the finality of the sea, the earth. The line where the water meets the sky. Deep blue, to light blue, to white, reversed. Mirror images. More concrete with spots of land, keys.
The mind. Containing the infinities, reaching but never taking. Unable to reveal the beauty.
Where I've been
Photo Galleries
My trip journals
Travel Answers about Honduras
Do you have a travel question? Ask other World Nomads.
