Wednesday, May 15, 2019

A Passport to the Unseen Winds

Hmm, I think I might know what my next long-term photo project might be...


Windmills always remind me of Miyazaki's Nausicaa, and I still feel kind of proud whenever I see the wind farm off the shore of our beach.


The wind itself is something weirdly magical. So ever-present, yet always invisible. I have to remind myself I only ever feel its effects, and never get to experience it as a Pure Thing, not like a bicycle or a coin. Wind exists, it seems, on a higher level. A noun that is there, yet isn't.

Is the wind we hear in our ears the same as the wind we feel on our faces?

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