Rolling the Bones

 

I was walking on a beach when I found something. Not an important something, a discarded something that had fulfilled its purpose and found its way to the sea. The sea had welcomed it, washed it, touched it. Now it spoke to me.

A few steps later I picked up another.

Encouraged, I looked some more, searching until I had handful of special things.

At least to me they seemed special.

I wanted to capture the specialness, so I shook them and let them fall.

I photographed them where they lay.

The action seemed shamanistic.

Like a foretelling.

So I did it again. Nine more times.

Ten futures in all.