The end of the trail

Snail trail early morning

Downloading last week’s images onto the laptop I came across a disturbing image, that I had erased from my memory.

For the post Living along the path I had been out early one morning, to capture the richness in flowers and greens along this path, running between the camping site and the beach. Walking back, with the sun in my face, I noticed an intriguing glittering spot on the pavement. Zooming in, I wondered what I was looking at, and took a photograph.

Snail trail early morning

Festive trail, one early morning

Stepping back, zooming out, I noticed a black, dry and deflated cashew nut. A dead body.

Snail trail early morning

Corpus delicti

What happened?! It looks like a snail… did it party hard the night before and then not make it home, or did it lose its home first and therefor suffered a sunstroke, went mad and died? What is that spot at the beginning of the corkscrew? How come it starts here? Did it fall from the sky? Or did it nibble on something? Maybe it was a street artist snail, and is this the last work? How long did it take to trace those swirls?

Questions questions… The image is beautiful and sad at the same time, reminding me of a song, that I will upload here in honor of the little lost, now dead, snail.

Mahogany Diana Ross

Do you know where you’re going to?

About Wilma Tichelaar

relentless hunter gatherer of soothing beauty, great and small
Image | This entry was posted in TEXT, TIME LAPSE, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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