In shells, a memory …

When in Geraldton, in the Midwest of Western Australia, I often find myself grabbing a quick lunch at St Georges Beach while seated in my car.  I angle myself comfortably, to watch the distinctive trees.  In the still of the moment, they look like they are responding to a sea breeze.  They are poised, but do not break.

During the last trip, the trees took me where I’ve wanted to be each time I visit this sea city.  Just beyond the beige.

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Is white a different shade of beige?  I’m not sure but the difference is remarkable.

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I zoomed in for a closer look, and saw so much more.  In a cup of a shell, there were smaller, tinier shells.

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Some fused with coral.

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My first blue shell!

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A sea sponge, as distinctive as a hairdo.

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Thousands of broken and whole shells, pieces of coral too.

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A translucent shell, agape.

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I missed the details on the countless trips I’ve made.

Moving from the beige to beyond, I returned home and read up on shells.  There is so much about them I do not know and have yet to learn.

What I did learn is, shells once belonged to living creatures.  They are remnants of what was and become footprints in the sand.

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Just like memories.

Until next time

As always

a dawn bird