TonyTomlinson56
A winters walk
So I have started a module on creating abstract creative words. It's very difficult to think this way. I find it quite easy with my visual work but very hard when trying to write about it. This image is actually a double exposure. I added just the faintest hint of bare winter trees to the skyline and then thought long and hard about how to write about it all. This is Selsey's beautiful shingle beach this morning.
The hush of winter drapes itself over Selsey’s beautiful shingle beach, where the sea glows silver beneath a sky of quiet frost. The pebbles, sleek with dampness, shift and sigh beneath each step, their softened edges bearing the weight of time. The tide, a glassy exhalation, moves with a measured patience, its surface barely stirred, as though dreaming beneath the pale hush of morning.
Above, the ghost of bare winter trees etches delicate veins against the sky, their skeletal branches reaching, yearning, dissolving into mist. Shadows pool in their tangled limbs, a silent memory of leaves now lost to the turning year. The wind drifts through unseen, a cold, gentle hand brushing along the shore, neither cruel nor kind, only present. It carries the scent of brine and distant storms, a whisper of forgotten voyages.
Driftwood lies abandoned, its pale bones softened by the sea’s slow touch. Seaweed glistens in dark ribbons, curling over smooth stones like ink spilled upon a silent page. A gull wheels above, spectral in the grey light, its wings cutting through the weight of stillness. Footsteps leave brief imprints, soon erased by the tide’s patient return.
Here, the world breathes in quiet rhythm—water lapping, stones shifting, the wind threading through the empty arms of winter trees. Kelsey’s beach stands timeless, a place where the sea listens, the sky remembers, and the land waits beneath the sleeping season’s hush.
A winters walk
So I have started a module on creating abstract creative words. It's very difficult to think this way. I find it quite easy with my visual work but very hard when trying to write about it. This image is actually a double exposure. I added just the faintest hint of bare winter trees to the skyline and then thought long and hard about how to write about it all. This is Selsey's beautiful shingle beach this morning.
The hush of winter drapes itself over Selsey’s beautiful shingle beach, where the sea glows silver beneath a sky of quiet frost. The pebbles, sleek with dampness, shift and sigh beneath each step, their softened edges bearing the weight of time. The tide, a glassy exhalation, moves with a measured patience, its surface barely stirred, as though dreaming beneath the pale hush of morning.
Above, the ghost of bare winter trees etches delicate veins against the sky, their skeletal branches reaching, yearning, dissolving into mist. Shadows pool in their tangled limbs, a silent memory of leaves now lost to the turning year. The wind drifts through unseen, a cold, gentle hand brushing along the shore, neither cruel nor kind, only present. It carries the scent of brine and distant storms, a whisper of forgotten voyages.
Driftwood lies abandoned, its pale bones softened by the sea’s slow touch. Seaweed glistens in dark ribbons, curling over smooth stones like ink spilled upon a silent page. A gull wheels above, spectral in the grey light, its wings cutting through the weight of stillness. Footsteps leave brief imprints, soon erased by the tide’s patient return.
Here, the world breathes in quiet rhythm—water lapping, stones shifting, the wind threading through the empty arms of winter trees. Kelsey’s beach stands timeless, a place where the sea listens, the sky remembers, and the land waits beneath the sleeping season’s hush.