Tuesday, 22 July 2014

Part of the Pools
June 2014

Reluctancy stuck to the soles of Hornwomans shoes and staff as she, Goatman and Edie the Kid commenced their unmarked trail to the Blinman Pools.
The trail had never been trod by human weight in their opinion. The goat tracks and a compass pointing south spoke of the Pools and that that is the path they should take.

The steep, shaled terrain kept her reluctancy acute for several hundred meters of traversing - concocting images of ankles at wrong angles, car keys lost in the vast surrounds and a big, blank read of No Service for phone reception to match.
Goatman found his staff first with thanks to Hornwoman's keener eye. With the presence of our first mascot by our ambling footed sides, the reluctancy and reliance on the compass began to slip.
Goatwoman relaxed into the path ahead. The vehicle road gone. A goat track curving west around the chest of the first of many creases.
A weightless silence filled the space between the three and the chitter of tumbling rock beneath the feet of ground dwelling wildlife. The silence but for their sound and the circulating winged sky life was delicate. Two human figures and a canine had joined the threadwork of the mysteriouus surrounds for an afternoon.
Pausing to gasp in admiration on countless occasion, at seemingly simple, intricate detail of a beautiful uninterrupted space.

Goatman, in an exhalation of epistomological thought: "Would you think that the animals marvel of the beauty of such a place as we do??"
Clothes fell to the dirt and sun danced into their eyes as the man and women were intoxicated by the discovery of the spectacular oasis and the feeling it aroused. The air pressed cool, ricocheting off the stone and prickles bit bald feet.
The clothes came off. The water pierced, fierce. Lungs retrieting as other body parts that came in two's did too. The clothes stayed off.
They jumped into the sky. Their decorum a reflection of the primitive landscape. Riddled with the desire to let go of what would be perhaps 'moonstruck' behaviour. That term representing quite what it is for the moment. The moon that week was as complete as the Goatman and Hornwoman behaviour.

Nothing to divide near and far, big and small, but the conditioned manner of human interpretation.

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