Clouds.

{masses of air and sliding water particles, never frozen in place, never constant. the aimless wanderer. bringing relief. bringing terror. familiar and stranger. the breath of earth.}

I have been walking through the images from my trip to Europe late last year and have begun to see patterns of fascination, repeating with each new documented episode of the journey. The sky. I have never seen such a striking sky-scape as when I saw one in Iceland. The clouds, smooth and powerful, the gesture seen  and the effect soon felt. The icy winds cutting across our noses and whipping up our hair as we climbed out of underground tunnels.

There is something transportive about these elemental, shifting beings. A longing to also move untethered across the face of the earth. Their forms conjure ideas of might, fear, strength, harmony, beauty – the cumulonimbus, the bringer of storms.