Blue skies used to roll, over the Cappa Gorge. But now the light had changed.
Zindler reached into his rucksack and sat down. It was a beautiful shot.
The great leveling plain, on the upper level, framing the sky, barely broken into vast mesas. The soaring silver belly of the cloud systems above, like the floor of Heaven. The gulf of space between, spanning wide and pancaking into the narrow curve of the earth.. it was extraordinary.
And below, a world carved out, millennia’s work of wind. A thinner medium than water, that lets the loosened matter settle, and pile, and fall on down with more wind.
Far below, a dried up riverbed. Or did the water carve the canyon?
He was not a geologist. He shook his head at his ignorance.
But it was black and white and grey. It once was red, ruddy, blooming with yellow too. He wondered why. But, he had better things to do.
He snapped the photo, carefully balancing the camera tripod, feeling the colourless wind blow, feeling his rough gray hair, and wondered again why the world looked sapped of colour.
He had not much time to wonder on.
A tiny dust cloud was growing on the horizon, drawing closer.
*Thanks to Notis Stamos, mingophoto and Simoneteffect for liking my post. It was a bad time for me, but this is encouraging. 🙂