The Blue Hour
The sun wanted to rise, but the clouds weighed it down. It was the blue hour and we were all out to take advantage. What was it we were after? Images. Everything was disappearing. We were trying to save what we could.
It was the blue hour. On a black shore. We were there for the ice diamonds, all that was left of the icebergs. They littered the black sand as if a jeweler had placed them there to show them off. With our cameras and tripods, we were like idiot thieves who thought we could steal them that way.
Idiotic I say because we ourselves were disappearing too. There went Gunther. There went Lakshmi. One moment we were touching and talking, the next they were fading away. I looked up from the histogram to chase them with a clever remark as they moved on down the beach. All I saw was what might have been ghosts going back into nowhere.
It was the blue hour. The ice was blue. I was blue. An unexpected wave had knocked me down and wet me through. I kept shooting. How long did I have? Perhaps I myself was attaining the unseen already.
In the distance the snowy mountains were remembering the volcanoes that had raged among them. Once upon a time.
3 February 2023
Texas Jim
Diamond Beach, Iceland
www.granitecoast.ca