Narelle Autio around a golden sun
I love those hot, windless summer evenings. There is a quiet stillness to the world that seems magnified by the mirrored surface of the sea. The last fingers of sun loiter over the beach, reaching out hanging on to the day.
Warmed by the inferno that was the day, the water is busy. A melting pot of humanity. Families and dog walkers, sun worshippers, teenagers and lovers come to sit and play in this big beautiful pond of water that hugs Adelaide’s coast. The ocean is calm and embracing, restoring us but perhaps it is an illusion. Maybe the magic hour is hiding a truth
There is an old story I’ve heard, a myth probably… a frog in a pot of cold water. If you turn the temperature up slowly it won’t feel it. The frog will not try and save itself. Sitting quietly, comfortably. Slowly boiling itself to death. The change in temperature so gradual it won’t realise till it is too late.