Philosophy and Photographs, Nicotine and Surf Wax

A bagpipe musician on a cliff at Big Sur, CA

I see wax in the hands of a culture with salted eyelashes and calloused feet. They surround themselves with the breath of adventure and experience philosophy by becoming a part of the deepest thoughts there are, the thoughts beyond words. The thoughts you think when you are eye level with the ocean, cheek pressed against the sand, watching the water glisten, your heartbeat corresponding to the lull of the waves.

I see nicotine filling mouths with words, uncovering the soul that humanity is so comfortable masking with superficiality. My own lungs will never inhale this decay and my mind will never justify its destruction, but my senses are inspired by the gratifying emanation it gives. The smoke is is the smell of speculation and contemplation, ideation and deliberation, opening unfolding minds which are burdened with concepts that are too complex for human words to communicate, but demonstrated perfectly by a cappuccino and a well worn pipe.

I breath in the alluring incense of surf wax and nicotine. They are showcased by the grandeur of places that photographs can never capture, but also by the camera that has captured things that can never be images. What can put a face on joy more than the wrinkling creases of an old man's smiling eyes? What can depict happiness beyond a bagpipe player's wizened fingers dancing to the music of the ocean's uncivilized waves? It is this unconstrained freedom which creates the delicate foam boundaries that kiss sandy toes where reminiscence meets reality.