Sentinel

 Posted by on August 17, 2013  Add comments
Aug 172013
 
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Someone walks along the beach, finds a beautiful piece of wood, goes to the effort of mounting it in the rocks and leaves.  It must have touched them in some way.  I walk along the beach, see the art, it touches me, and I make a photograph.  Today the art exists only in the mind of the maker and in my photograph.  I love life's big little surprises.

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