He hiked over the shallow creek. Listening and that’s it. He didn’t think of photographing it or making a note of where he was or even trying to be privy to his geographic specificity. He didn’t care. He walked, but slow, water chirps over molded stones and fish that had no where to go. One salmon, stuck in a clan of condensed smooth ovals of soaring color varieties. Nothing he could do, well there was, but he wouldn’t. The scene wanted it that way. Walking… Wind over a short shrub, shoved right by wind’s wave, suggestive.