Alone

Two worlds, two extremes: a hushed ice field of blue and white, and a dense riot of color. In each, a single creature stands alone, holding the frame.

The finch and the whale never meet, but they say the same thing to me. One is alone amid a thousand competing blooms. The other, normally massive, is alone in an even vaster landscape of ice and water, yet still asserts itself, a dark flick of life against all that immensity.

Zoom out and every scale starts to look the same. A finch against a field of flowers. A whale against a field of ice. A planet against a field of stars, a pale, small thing easy to lose if you looked away. Different distances, same truth.

I feel that nature keeps circling back to that feeling: every single thing in it belongs there, no matter the scale.