i must be dreaming

Walking along the rock river after school, i found a colorful old rusted can, some slimy rope, a nest of big, old broken pottery, I fell in love with the patterns on its surface, took many pictures, plan to paint it. walking to the sea, looking down at the myriad of rainbows and ripples and rips in the rocks, and, what the? oh! a jizo san! a bodhisattva i found stairing up at me from the wet ground. hello. then, i found another, and another, and soon i realize im surounded by tiny drawings of Jizo scattered all over the place. walking further i find more adn more until.. ..are those eggs? and rice? what the? ehhh?
Here are the pics. please enlarge them. if you have time. the stick and can are quite wonderful, if you ask me.

oh, and i am reading "the essence of alan watts," and listen to this part: "trying to convery the idea of smells to you in words has the same sort of frustration one gets trying to describe color to the blind. I have a friend who was born blind. She has no idea what darkness is. And so I had to try to give her an idea of what stars are and why we love them. I said, "Imagine when you touch the edge of something, you feel the edge, and then you move your hand away and nothing obstructs you hand, so there is space, nothing obstructing. NOw imagine if you could put your hands out and feel around yourself a large collection of randomly distributed prickles, sharp points, that don't hurt you. At least not like the point of a needle. They're kind of pleasure-pain. We get this impression with the things we call our eyes, a friendly prickle coming at us from all over space when we can see them at night." So we try to translate the language of sight into the language of touch..."