June 28, 2019
Our boat glided past Tommy Thompson Park and into the wide open lake. The pale, cloudless sky reflected in the glassy water, the horizon a shimmering thread stretched across the blue. It was a landscape out of a Dalí painting—with a dash of enchantment.
Against this backdrop, far in the distance, a three-masted sailing ship slowly glided towards us with a Canadian flag waving from its stern. Its translucent sails billowed and glowed light yellow, lit up by the day's new sun.
Near to us, lines of black birds punctuated the stillness, flying silently along the surface of the water, then rising up above it, their paths intertwining and diverging. It seemed as if each bird that passed by the ship, skimming across the water, was the same size as the ship's hull itself; rising up a few metres into the air, the birds seemed miles above the ship's tallest mast.
American minimalist music, the volume turned mostly down, is the perfect soundtrack for this image. Common Tones in Simple Time, played together with Variations for Winds, Strings and Keyboards, perhaps?