These two photographs of the Golden Gate Bridge in Mist, and By Crissy Field, were taken six hours apart on a mild autumn Sunday. There is a certain timelessness about a still photograph (or two) that is lost in a motion image. The still image allows one to return to a day of finite proportion, and to transform that day into a flood of memory of infinite time and space. In the process, we trigger a thousand images that resides deep in our consciousness, and recraft the images in our memory into a personal narrative. We can recall only the good things – or muscle in another day,  another time or place – into the flow of images that made that day happen, that changed our future forever.

Peter Carey, the novelist, once said in an interview that it’s impossible to make a movie of a book that one has written, because a different and personal movie is conjured and produced in the mind of every reader who reads the book. And so it is, with a photograph, a picture that paints a thousand words.

An excursion of Bay ducks at Crissy Field, the Presidio, by the shores of San Francisco Bay, on a beautiful and mild autumn morning

Golden Gate in Mist – The towers of the Golden Gate Bridge peeps above the rolling mists, with a nonchalant  sailboat and a committed para-glider, in the foreground, taken from the Sausulito Ferry.