The Weight of Salt

The sea is not far. It is in the skin. It is in the way the morning air tastes of cold water and iron. We gather what the tide leaves behind, believing we are the masters of the harvest. We slice. We season. We arrange the bounty on the wooden board as if we are composing a map of our own survival.

But the fish remembers the deep. It remembers the pressure of the dark, the silence of the currents, the way the light fractured before it reached the surface. We think we are looking at a meal. We are looking at a ghost of the ocean, caught in a brief, bright transition between the wild and the plate.

What remains when the hunger is gone?

Keshia Sophia has captured this quiet transition in her image titled Market Day. The raw truth of the sea rests here, waiting for the knife. Does it remind you of the places where you come from?