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I have swallowed sweet draughts
from trickling desert springs,
the liquid’s own journey
through cloud, stone, and sand.
Water, like smoke, like music,
moves between worlds.
There is no religion
like water in a dry land.
I’ve discovered another slight flaw in this project. The goal to document the moods and conditions around the thirty-one falls of Rocky Mountain National Park via photography suffers from a contextual flaw. These shots of Ouzel Falls are the best example of that flaw so far, and I don’t mean my increasing tendency to photograph the falls in black and white, though that is definitely a result of the seasonal shift.
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