Baobab Time

In the giant green house in the Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens stands a Baobab tree.

I felt him watching me taking photos through an eye in his bark. 

The eye of the baobab looks like a galaxy, a galaxy on the skin and an image of the depth inside.

Maybe something has been dropped into this bubbling pulsating network of fibers and nodes. 

I see life moving.

This image is a snapshot, frozen in time, of the eye taking in what it sees.

But my mind tells me that there is no movement on the bark of the tree.

Could it be that the baobab has his own speed as he sees with nearly still slowness?

Bubbling and pulsating take place and flow in baobab time.

I believe in nature every being has its own time. There is a time of the flower, a time of the bee, a time of the rock, a time of the wind and a time of the human being in each moment.

I can stop and feel into the baobab time 

and for a moment I forget the idea that my time measures all what is happening.

Time stands still and loses its relevance.

Letter in the Grass

I walked towards the low tide beach when I noticed the bunches of dry grass on the  left of the path. Something pulled me to look closer and take a picture.

Processing the raw image brought out the secret letters. 

Fonts looking familiar but like a foreign ancient writing. 

A love letter written by the wind and the sun.

A letter wanted to be found. A message of chance without a bottle. I worked on the image again.

 It fascinated me. What would the wind want to tell me of his love making with the grass?

And the heat bending each leave into a form to make it a symbol of a language.

Does this symbol represent a sound? Is  it the sound of the wind captured in the grass?

Is  there a love song of the wind that can be played reading the letters?

Can you see the sweet sounds of loving?