Totem poles

When I lived in Sitka I used to wander through the totem pole park during late afternoons when I was heading back from the boat harbor. I would walk the paths and look up into the sky and look at the topmost figure, then let my eyes slowly start working down the pole trying to envision a story possibly not unlike the story that was envisioned by those who had created the pole. But I would never imagine that my story was even close to that of the ones before me, the creators, and the stories that were passed to the creators through many generations of iteration by the ones whose stories carresed a completely different reality than the one I managed seeing through in my attempts to place meaning on space. One point, though, where I wonder if we might have been somewhat within the same space of thought was in the patterns of the curves.