The Edge of the Tide
The mud remembers the weight of a footfall. Or perhaps it forgets.
We move through the world, leaving marks that the water will eventually claim. A small life, busy with the business of survival, does not ask to be remembered. It only asks to be. There is a grace in this—the way a creature occupies its own shadow, unbothered by the vastness of the horizon. We spend our days trying to leave a permanent imprint, forgetting that the most honest things are those that vanish with the tide.
To be small is not to be insignificant. It is to be perfectly aligned with the earth.
What remains when the water recedes?
Ernest Kustiadihardjo has taken this beautiful image titled Enjoying Holiday. It captures the quiet dignity of a life lived at the water’s edge. Does the bird know it is being watched?
