The sand the sea gives back
Last week the sea, from above. This week the dunes behind it, where the wind piles what the sea gave back. Gumuk Pasir. The name is a plain description: sand hills.
The camera came through in October 2017, an ordinary day: heavy sky, flat light. Posters show this place gold; street view kept the grey, and grey is the honest colour here. Not beach sand: Merapi ground down, volcanic and dark.
Two steel towers hold a cable high over the sand. A blue sign stands in the foreground, paint worn by the wind. In the middle of the dunes a pond sits in the lowest bowl of sand, wearing the same grey as the sky. Far off, tiny people stand at the water's edge, the smallest things in the frame.
But grass is taking hold between the pond and the people. Grass is patient. Where it roots, the sand stops walking. Trees were planted to hold the sand; they have disturbed the wind's work. A dune that cannot move is slowly becoming something else.
I don't know if the pond is still there. Ponds like that come and go with the rain. The photograph is almost nine years old. The dunes are still there, held by the grass, waiting on the wind.
Shown to my parent first, before posting. That is our deal.
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