The Weight of Stone

Time is not a line. It is a layering. We walk upon the bones of things that were here long before we learned to name the wind. There is a specific silence in the presence of old stone, a weight that presses against the chest, reminding us that our own lives are merely a blink in the history of the earth. We move through the landscape, busy with our small hungers, while the cliffs remain, indifferent and absolute. They have seen the ice retreat and the forests grow. They have seen the quiet passing of creatures who graze and sleep and vanish. We think we are the observers, but perhaps we are only the passing shadows. What remains when the shadow lifts? Is the stone aware of the warmth that brushes against its base, or is it only waiting for the next age to begin?

Sergey Tomas has captured this stillness in his image titled Cows Area. The earth holds its breath beneath the weight of the ancient cliffs. Does the silence here feel as heavy to you as it does to me?