I just came back from Hawaii, the Big Island. (I know, I know! But I really needed a few days away in the sun.) Except where professional landscapers and endless water have done their magic, the dry Kona side of the island looks sort of like pictures from the moon. It’s all barren lava flow. But where ever people traverse, graffiti follows. And an endless stream of resourceful visitors have gathered up white coral stones from the beach and carted them to the roadside where they write out words and messages and draw pictures.
The Fowler family was here
No more war 4 ever
LTL + MATT + SAMMY
The white rocks glow against the black lava background. And people are endlessly ingenious. The day was gorgeous, and I had my new camera ready, all posed to click picture after picture.
I clicked once, then nothing. Yep, the battery was dead. Foolish me. I figured that since the camera was new, so was the battery. Of course, it was the one size battery the local store didn’t carry, too.
I especially wanted a picture of one particular message that cautioned:
Write Good, she said
Write good? As in, mind what words you spell out in the rocks, or a general word of advice to writers of all kinds? And who was “she”?
I miss my dog!
Endless story possibilities bubble up with the lava. Freedom for whom? The native Hawaiians, of whom so few survive? Who was Mario and what was he supposed to remember–or could it be that the writer didn’t understand the power of a comma?
Thanks, graffiti writers. You wrote good, I said.
“True ease in writing comes from art, not chance…”