Updated: May 8, 2020
Somewhere in a Japanese garden, two men wander---their strides in sync.
They talk of the weather, politics, and growing pandemic concerns. Crystal ball in their hands, they speculate what the future holds for the human race.
Their arms shielded by the sleeve of a jacket. Their heads, a hat. Their legs, a pant. Their faces, a mask. A study in personal protection and anonymity.
While they remain in close proximity to one another, they have distanced themselves, both physically and socially---maybe even emotionally, from the rest of the world.
With each step through my peripheral vision, they become a stride closer to vanishing into the abyss. Eventually, they disappear.
I continue to wander.
As I wander, birds float and fly---turtles creep aimlessly through an ocean of murk .
I see them.
They see me.
I see myself on the water's surface.
Stepping stones take me across the water to to an island.
Surrounding a tea house are Japanese maples---their leaves a deep crimson. The house floats in a ring of fire. Leaves contrast heavily against the dark trunk of the tree and white skies of the overcast afternoon.
Inside the tea house people walk, stand, and ponder, what's next for the world. The trees which line the pond reflect in its still waters---creating a mirror image that disappears at the horizon as it stretches to infinity.
Deeper in the gardens, walkways become empty---benches, now vacant, houses the occasional squirrel.
Despite all the change---all the emptiness and uncertainty, nature cannot be stopped.
But once again, nature cannot be stopped.
Eventually petals will fall and rejoin the earth---a fuel for future generations.
The heterogeneous spackling of color we associate with spring will make way to a homogeneously green summer---but for now, just enjoy the colors
Camera: Canon EOS Kiss III
Film: FujiFilm C200
When: April 2020
Where: Wheaton & Ellicott City, Maryland
Finishing off the roll at home: