The things left behind

I like island walks because I always find interesting things buried in the sand or hidden in trees.

There are two categories of things I find.

The first is the stuff that nature designed…

colorful stones

patterned seashells


dead jellyfishes



decomposing coconut shells

Then there’s litter and man made trash…

shiny earrings and rings

empty beer bottles

jagged bits of glass

cigarette buds

abandoned buildings

or pieces of furniture

I’ve even found my fair share of underwear peeping out from under a sand dune (haha)

I find litter damaging but so intriguing…

Intriguing because of the story behind the object. 

If I see something that graps my attention, I’ll stop and take it in.

Sometimes I take a picture.

Normally, I just dream…

I envision the object in my minds eye, let my imagination run wild and paint a picture of its origin story.

I wonder, “How did it get here?”

“How long has it been here?”

“How far did it travel to reach the shores of Thailand?”

“Who did it belong to…do they miss it?”

I also think about how it makes me feel or if it triggers a memory.

In this picture the wooden planks remind me of a cross, one of the most important symbols from my past.

In my childhood it was analogous to strength and authority.


It doesn’t represent either of those things to me, but it stirs up strong and distinct emotions.

I find it fascinating how random trash can elicit such a spiral of feelings and thoughts within me.

Maybe it’s because the things we leave behind aren’t so simple?

Maybe they carry weight?

Maybe they carry their history with them?

I wonder what’s the story for these pieces of wood.

The weathered ropes wrapped around the center must have been used to fortify and secure something to it.

Whatever the case, it was used for stability.

I wonder why it was no longer of any use and left behind, like the symbol of the cross in my life now.

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