What beautiful country I live in. The rocks are very precariously placed in the landscape and it is interesting to document their lives. How did they come to be scattered everywhere? This group of rocks was especially interesting because they appeared fleshy.
There are no nerve endings in rocks. They cannot feel my hand touching them and they must not know I am interested in what they look like. It is only their color that makes them look alive. An illusion.
I couldn't help but stroke the smooth sides of these rocks and enjoy the fleshy tones. If they were alive and spawning more copies of themselves to scatter on the hillside I wouldn't be surprised.
Oh, I know I am silly to antropomorphize rocks. I have too much imagination. However as soon as I found this collection of fleshy rocks I was happy. It made me smile to go around photographing them and saying hello. They didn't answer back.
Each rock had its own personality and look. How they bounced around and jostled into position must have been a violent upheaval but now they are peaceful. Each in its own space, not feeling crowded. Just sitting there in fleshy wonder. Not creating or thinking. Just being.
Reflecting the sunshine and washed by the rain. They will never grow bigger only smaller and more weathered. It is a life of sorts. Transforming to dust.
When I looked closely at the folds and crevices I felt intimate with the rock. The shapes and textures turned me on a little. Sensual rocks.
Race and skin tone did not occur to me. Each rock was its own species and the fleshy feel was more of a body stripped of skin, exposed with a rawness that only nature can display.
This rock looked like a burn victim. It must have been through hell and now had a well deserved rest on this beautiful hillside. I felt compassion. It could not possibly have felt anything for me. No feelings. Just a rock.
This big crack in the rock looked painful. There is no pain in being a rock. They just are. That is not a blood color oozing out of the fleshy rock. There is no blood or guts. Rocks just are. They do crack and separate tho. They do die and disappear eventually.
If I visit these rocks again will they remember me? No. I did not register a bleep on their existence. My life means nothing to them. They are not alive and yet....they seem to have a presense. They seem to know things.
Next time I visit them I will see some changes and I will be changed. The life of a rock on this hillside seems idylic to me. Calm and peaceful, they sit with only the illusion of flesh. I felt love for them.