in the midst of the natural beauty there was hardness. this is where a fisherman kept his tools, including his nets, jangada and related hunting gear. it is not where he lived, although he told me he spent a lot of time here, either in preparation or in contemplation. the sands around it weere littered with little aspects of human life, bottles, plastic, miniature rubbish. and a lot of dead desecating fish, the ones that didnt make it into the market, either out of purely random and unfortunate geographical isolation or because they arent the kind which fetches an acceptable monetary return for their weight. exposed under the intense, incessant and unforgivign sun, they bake, fry. i think these fotos give an impression of the heat, the arid, unsentimental death of those creatures paralysed under its intense gaze. even the clouds in this ocean front desert suffer the intensity of the sun, their whiteness communicating something like fleeing urgency as they blow away speedily, never giving up, or down, their waters. in a couple of occasions i found myself low on fresh water during my dementedly epic walks, and contemplated the cruel irony of so much water to my right, useless to me, and so much sand and sun to my left, seductively unforgiving, my throat drying of thirst astride this literal ocean of plenty.
