Being inside light
Click on the top left picture and scroll through the story by clicking right.
The bus had been sitting by a house in Irē all those weeks, and I never thought it was actually roadworthy. It was the final night of the Livonian camp and I was going with all the kids and teachers to Īra beach for a final night together. Minutes after this picture was taken, we made a sudden turn onto a road even less suited for a bus. A narrow forest path that I guessed was the new road I’d heard so much about. We bumped and rocked over tree roots and branches, the bus sometimes tilting at obscene angles. But we were all laughing because it seemed impossible that anything truly bad could even happen. Before reaching the beach, we encountered a car heading the other direction on the new road. We must have appeared like some mythical forest beast suddenly bursting from the dark depths, our engines bellowing a frightening cry, and our headlights shining like twin demons in the night. The look on the other driver’s face was unforgettable.
The bus dropped us off and they started to build a campfire. Some of us walked across the dunes to see the ocean and the sunset.
I climbed over the dunes and saw the ocean stretching out before me. Somewhere on the other side was Sweden, but there was no way to tell. The whole world was nothing but water, sand, and light.
I walked out onto the beach and it was like being inside light. Everything was pink, the color of the clouds and sky.
Looking Southwest, the sea, sand, and sky came together with the familiar coast pines.
Light catching the breaking waves, as the sun sinks into the Baltic Sea. Maxfield Parrish clouds drift above.
As the observer, I wanted to know what it was like to be the observed. So, I turned the camera on myself and watched as I became just another object played upon by the evening light.
The clouds hung above and looked as if they were outlining the shape of the forests, the water, and the sand. A two-dimensional slice of a three-dimensional world. The moon sat silently above, adding just enough to keep the rest of the sky from seeming empty.
The sun sank deeper into the ocean. Its reflection a golden path running straight to me across the waters.
Looking north, up the coast towards Kūolka. A few footsteps broke the uniformity of the sand and dunes, little mounds of sand behind the beach scrub the only evidence of the constant wind.
The sun was almost gone, the beach world no longer appeared pink and luminous. Yet the sun still glowed molten. It seemed the center point of activity, balanced by the clouds drifting across the quickly darkening skies, and the calm waters of the sea.
The sun was disappearing into a cloud bank. Water above and water below had gone from the brilliant color of day to the slate grey of the approaching night.
The last limb of the sun disappears into a cloud bank as it dips below the horizon.
The sun had set and now only its final glow permeated the sky. The light of the moon had begun to assert itself, and soon only it and the stars would light our way back to camp. Even in the growing darkness, it seemed the world around us and the world above us had remained the same color. The receding tide had created a perfect mirror to the sky. Two little girls from camp reached down to touch its face.
They say the sun powers the atmosphere, energizing the winds and water, giving them life. Looking up at these clouds that night, I could feel it. They surged and lifted, seeming to imbibe the very air with a gentle strength that embraced me as I walked across the moonlit dunes. Soon I would be away from this world and back on the bus, rocking down the dirt highway to home.