Dinosaur coastWalking on the hills, through the pine tree wood, up the Captain Cook hills to the smugglers cove sea. The dinosaur coast, the ironstone hills, down to the sea-coal beach where the Vikings came. Up on the hills, out by the sea, to the garrulous world with its news cast face and urgent policies and constant static and all its drama, far below in the ants nest town. Up here, you can hear the whistling wind you can think for yourself. The waving leaves and blackbirds tweets are all the social media you’ll get. You can look down on the small mind witterings of man unkind. Up here, they have no more meaning than the baying of hounds, the chirping of chaffinches. You wonder how you could get caught up in all that. Take out the camera, capture the times. The world is not humanity!
Photo and text by Trev Teasdel