It makes it really difficult to keep still when the Mosquitos are biting into every ounce of flesh that is exposed-and that’s a fair bit because I live in Far North Queensland, where shorts and T-shirts are a staple commodity.
They were severe this evening- a mismatch with the serenity. No breeze. Perfect temperature, a view to die for, and a world of quiet, bar the occasional bird song.
What was I doing?
Not really sure. Your guess is as good as mine. I think if I was on a game show and I had to attempt an answer, I would say that I was freezing the world around me with my camera, in aim of reminding myself that it did indeed, in a wonderous capacity, still exist-a stark contrast to societies political thorns that continue to bite my butt.
Mozzies and politics-both very irritating.
At first glance, it was boring. Nothing much to see, nothing eye catching that hadn’t already caught me a million times before. I snapped regardless. Because that’s what I came here to do- Unwind, clear the head and recharge. Opening and closing the shutter was secondary.
It is amazing what can unfold around you when you don’t give two hoots why or where you are. When you have no solid reason to be wherever you are. When expectations are low, the little things become much, much more interesting.
I found myself just off the beach, playing in the mudflats with the mudcrabs (burried in their little mudcrab holes) and spying on the seagulls-so what, I hear you say.
The tide was out. Way out. I noticed a man looking in my direction, kind of tallish, 50’s, wearing glasses and a thick head of grey. He had a strong European accent.
“Are you local?” He asked
I hesitated, wondering how he could possibly be lost on the edge of a mudflat. If he was looking for the ocean, he was in the right place.
“Can I help?”
“Well it’s just that I am very concerned you will be eaten by a crocodile any minute now”
It amused me.
“You know, I am local, and I thank you for your concern…but I’m not worried about that”
I immediately jumped as he shrieked,
“It’s behind you, over there in the bushes”
His audible shriek stopped my heart on the spot more than his words of warning, and I turned around and quickly scanned the area.
No croc. Nothing. Not even a mudcrab. Not even a bird, or a dead fish, or a microscopic amoeba. Not surprising.
…what was surprising though, was that the man, who was there right in front of me, only seconds ago, had vanished completely. No sign of him, at all.
…and I’m not joking.