Photo Story: The Little Ones
They burrow between the cracks in our reality, craving the taste of clouds, feeling only the coarse, rough dirt below. Peering eyes examine but do not see, too small to notice. Living beneath us, they hear our speech, see our actions, smell our food. Our footsteps rattle their homes and shake their souls, they tremble in fear.
Their brains are small, perception of time flows by. See our trees fall, our towers rise, our people perish in the blink of an eye. They shake their heads in shame.
“If only they were small like us, they would see it all.”
Photo credit: Grant Faulkner
I’ve just come in from my backyard, dealing with mole activities. Shoveling back dirt, and hosing the deck. The can swim through dirt, someone has said.
Lovely piece, Elijah. Gets me thinking of such things.
Okay, Dude; you’re off to a great start. Write on.
Congratulations Elijah! Great work.
I love the sense of time you create so vividly with our trees fall, our towers rise, our people perish in the blink of an eye. It really feels like we’re watching generations come and go from the little beings’ eyes.
Congratulations, Elijah. This is a beautiful piece.