Preserved in a casting set in water-worn boulders are the sillouhettes of Taylor and Burton.  Most of us do not live such storied lives to attract drive-by visitors to hotels we slept in.  The bridges over our troubled waters are not that neat and tidy.  Whether we search for movie stars or movie star glasses doesn’t matter.  Whether we search Ancient Greek legends or deep sea neptune mysteries the remembrance of detail is clouded by the myth of story.  The legend is larger than the life.

The waving arms announce discovery and support for story.  The coupling of discovery with history creates a newness, a fresh Easter whitewash. Dragging through parks past monuments of remembrance to lean briefly on Bogart serves as a reminder that the story teller’s perspective creates memorable moments.  Highlights potential or essential truth.

On the fragment woven wall of remembrance names are gathered on chips of what once was valuable to become more valued in remembrance.  The locus of story couples with each visitors story to create new remembrance.

The eye is easily drawn to the perspective that confirms parallel lines meet in infinity.  Will my memory triggered by remembrances see the parade of story tellers whose tales have made them legends.  Will I see the infinite beauty of the creation in their passing and experience the rekindling of a fragment of inner beauty.  There is this circulating understanding that stories need to feel true to become legends.  Legends live forever in memory.