Isolation

there are those moments, poetic or pathetic, when you find yourself "discovering" a spot of land that feels silent, untouched. this dam was such a moment---even though obviously man-made, the hills, the water, the sun, the clouds, all froze into a memory spot glorious in its utter isolation. i imagine that explorers, if they weren't dying from dysentery or tuberculosis or starvation or dehydration or frostbite or mutiny, felt a similar twinge of excitement and heartbreak. excitement because it really WAS just a beautiful, bright, 76 degrees fahrenheit day, and heartbreak because somehow looking upon it was violating it.

which brings me to my next point...such a dam is a scar, a cheloid on nature, an unmistakable brand that we have stamped into the landscape. and yet it's stunning in its own stark, monolithic, absolute way---as the hills, trees, and river are a testament to a natural power, that solid hunk of concrete bears a witness to something almost other-worldly. it is a hollow beauty, an empty, blank face, that does not evoke happiness but imparts emotion nonetheless.

there is a michelangelo quote---whether or not he actually said it, i have no idea, but i would like to think he did---"i worship god for creating man."

poetic, or pathetic?