It was a brutal 78 degrees F today near the beach. I forced my hollow shell to take a hollow walk and record a bunch of hollow images to document the hollowness of a life lived bereft of seasons.
There's a conversation regarding hollowness over at Althouse, consider this post, these photos, and this set over at Flickr my contribution.
First up, the obligatory shot of palm trees
Next, a hollow vent, venting hollowly (probably venting over its location out here in the land without seasons, and largely without anything interesting to vent from beneath the street)
See, we have seasons, so our "fall" is happening a bit late, and amounts to a few trees, but dammit, this looks pretty damn fall like to me, maybe we aren't so hollow after all
If she's hitchhiking, she might be there awhile . . .
Nothing but knee slappers out there, but that doesn't stop some from suiting up and sitting on their boards
We may not have the character building joys of surviving subzero temps, but if you can remain hollow after seeing another golden sunset over the wide blue, well, I think you have bigger problems than living in a bankrupt state with a sunny and pleasant clime.