Written for Vista Magazine.
Time does not pass, the weather does not change. The trees cannot be chopped or uprooted. The hills cannot be dug into. The rivers, where they are found, cannot be diverted. It is a small slice of nowhere, frozen in a kind of serene stasis. What came before, and what will come after, has no meaning to this island, nor any influence on it.
There is little more to do in Shutter Stroll than wander hills and valleys, weave among trees, jump atop bushes, splash in ponds, and take pictures.
There is a kind of pensive joy in meandering through the non-existence. Even beyond the trappings of framing and taking photos, the very act of intentionally joining a liminal space is like a superpower. To pause time, even fictionally, for just an exhale, a snap of a shutter, and to take in the gentle noise of wind and rain for a moment is a kind of balm. Even in rainy and windy weather there are no dangers, it’s all aesthetic.
There’s just an ongoing soft breeze, gentle drizzle, and a moment of quiet. Then, you may leave, either to another island, or back to the passage of time.
Thoughts?