The Drowned Girl

OK, one more post to mark the end of Bowie week (see last post) before I get back on track with the walking posts.

But I think I can also probably be forgiven for the digression from my Camino preparations given that we are currently enjoying a very British summertime spate of hail and flash-flooding which makes the prospect of long-distance walking just a little unappealing right now.

Anyway, this shot was taken at sunset in Vietnam in January with a great little waterproof sports camera that Tiff gave me as a Christmas present and which I spent about an hour with waist-deep in the sea one evening trying to capture the contrast between the colours underwater and over the waves as the fading sun reflected on the sea’s surface.

And thinking of the Bowie theme, it bought to mind a bit of an obscure one – The Drowned Girl – which featured on the 1982 EP Baal, comprised of songs written for Bertolt Brecht’s play of the same name. A little macabre perhaps, but I don’t think Brecht was particularly renowned for his jollity…

Once she had drowned and started her slow descent
Down the streams to where the great rivers broaden
Oh, the opal sky shone most magnificent
As if it was acting as her body’s guardian
Wreck and duck weed slowly increased her weight
By clasping her in their slimy grip
Through her limbs, the cold blooded fishes played
Creatures and plant life kept on, thus obstructing her last trip

And the sky that same evening grew dark as smoke
And its stars through the night kept the brightness still soaring
But it quickly grew clear when dawn now broke
To see that she got one further morning
Once her pallid trunk had rotted beyond repair
It happened quite slowly that she gently slipped from God’s thoughts
First with her face, then her hands, right at the last with her hair
Leaving those corpse-choked rivers just one more corpse

Filed under: Camino Countdown Tagged: David Bowie, Photograph, Travel, Vietnam, Walking

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