A Eulogy For Icarus (Vertical)
A Eulogy to Icarus. There he was, floating up in the wide open sky, dancing with the clouds like some kind of drunk lunatic angel, defying gravity with nothing but nylon and string. It's a beautiful madness, this whole paragliding business, taking to the skies because you'd rather place your trust in the whims of wind than in the hearts of men. Icarus? That poor bastard was doomed from the start. His old man, Daedalus, he knew better—"Stick to the plan, kid. Don’t fly too high, don’t fly too low." But Icarus? He didn’t give a damn. He wanted to touch the sun, to taste the impossible. And he paid the price for it—plummeting like a rock into the unforgiving sea, his dreams snuffed out in an instant
But this ain't some Greek myth, no wax wings melting to impending doom. This dude here isn't interested in burning up in a blaze of glory. He ain't here for the "The Gram" or branded content. No, he's here for the Goddamned beauty of it all. To live on the edge without falling off.
No this is calculated chaos, a middle finger to gravity, yes but not a suicide mission. And so as our faceless hero drifts through the sky, there’s no tragedy in this flight, no hubris or fatal flaw. Just a man and a parachute and a sky of possibilities.
In the soft light and the gentle curves of the clouds, one sees not the tragedy of Icarus, but rather the peace of a spirit that has found its place in the world, content to soar within the limits set by nature, and to marvel at the beauty of creation without seeking to dominate it. And who wouldn't want that kind of balance first thing in the morning? Maybe in the form of a beautiful photography print hanging on the wall?
Oh yeah, there's photography involved in this demonstration of courage. This image as taken off the California Coast in the Cliffs of La Jolla during one the most memorable sunsets of my life. I had the 70-200 in my hand, the wind in my hair, and an afternoon by the sea free from burden.
A Eulogy to Icarus. There he was, floating up in the wide open sky, dancing with the clouds like some kind of drunk lunatic angel, defying gravity with nothing but nylon and string. It's a beautiful madness, this whole paragliding business, taking to the skies because you'd rather place your trust in the whims of wind than in the hearts of men. Icarus? That poor bastard was doomed from the start. His old man, Daedalus, he knew better—"Stick to the plan, kid. Don’t fly too high, don’t fly too low." But Icarus? He didn’t give a damn. He wanted to touch the sun, to taste the impossible. And he paid the price for it—plummeting like a rock into the unforgiving sea, his dreams snuffed out in an instant
But this ain't some Greek myth, no wax wings melting to impending doom. This dude here isn't interested in burning up in a blaze of glory. He ain't here for the "The Gram" or branded content. No, he's here for the Goddamned beauty of it all. To live on the edge without falling off.
No this is calculated chaos, a middle finger to gravity, yes but not a suicide mission. And so as our faceless hero drifts through the sky, there’s no tragedy in this flight, no hubris or fatal flaw. Just a man and a parachute and a sky of possibilities.
In the soft light and the gentle curves of the clouds, one sees not the tragedy of Icarus, but rather the peace of a spirit that has found its place in the world, content to soar within the limits set by nature, and to marvel at the beauty of creation without seeking to dominate it. And who wouldn't want that kind of balance first thing in the morning? Maybe in the form of a beautiful photography print hanging on the wall?
Oh yeah, there's photography involved in this demonstration of courage. This image as taken off the California Coast in the Cliffs of La Jolla during one the most memorable sunsets of my life. I had the 70-200 in my hand, the wind in my hair, and an afternoon by the sea free from burden.
A Eulogy to Icarus. There he was, floating up in the wide open sky, dancing with the clouds like some kind of drunk lunatic angel, defying gravity with nothing but nylon and string. It's a beautiful madness, this whole paragliding business, taking to the skies because you'd rather place your trust in the whims of wind than in the hearts of men. Icarus? That poor bastard was doomed from the start. His old man, Daedalus, he knew better—"Stick to the plan, kid. Don’t fly too high, don’t fly too low." But Icarus? He didn’t give a damn. He wanted to touch the sun, to taste the impossible. And he paid the price for it—plummeting like a rock into the unforgiving sea, his dreams snuffed out in an instant
But this ain't some Greek myth, no wax wings melting to impending doom. This dude here isn't interested in burning up in a blaze of glory. He ain't here for the "The Gram" or branded content. No, he's here for the Goddamned beauty of it all. To live on the edge without falling off.
No this is calculated chaos, a middle finger to gravity, yes but not a suicide mission. And so as our faceless hero drifts through the sky, there’s no tragedy in this flight, no hubris or fatal flaw. Just a man and a parachute and a sky of possibilities.
In the soft light and the gentle curves of the clouds, one sees not the tragedy of Icarus, but rather the peace of a spirit that has found its place in the world, content to soar within the limits set by nature, and to marvel at the beauty of creation without seeking to dominate it. And who wouldn't want that kind of balance first thing in the morning? Maybe in the form of a beautiful photography print hanging on the wall?
Oh yeah, there's photography involved in this demonstration of courage. This image as taken off the California Coast in the Cliffs of La Jolla during one the most memorable sunsets of my life. I had the 70-200 in my hand, the wind in my hair, and an afternoon by the sea free from burden.
