A hundred sails, nevermore to unfurl at sea, are rippling overhead in the afternoon breeze.A lazy hush fills the area as the sweeping wind brushes past my cheek.
There is serenity here, and beauty - but also regret.
A hundred sails, designed with direction in mind, now forbidden to take their destined journeys. Rather, the lofty heights of an unseen purpose has been thrust upon them.
Their makers, unsure of their final destination, probably saw just another piece of material. The artist- a unique canvass...
I stare upward at their graceful forms overhead, with the sound of seagulls, lapping water and lullabies. A billowing gust rips through the warehouse and all at once I am five again, with a fresh load of bed linen, a worthy imagination and a secret place to create and play in.
Memories, thoughts and beauty, I humbly leave you now for others to experience and enjoy.
*for anyone who also appreciated the simple beauty in this installation at the Biennale
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