Rock face

Fifteen minutes walk (well, a bit longer with the old dog now) and I'm on the cliff here where a wedge of coast juts out above the sea and on fine evenings like this one the sinking sun illuminates the profile of the rocks. Every time I catch sight of this one I see the side-on face of a young African woman, her hair piled up into a sort of head dress, her nose retroussé, her lips prominent and she's leaning back into the cliff with a kind of patterned garment wrapped around her as she gazes westward towards the sunset. Do you see her or is it just me?

I looked for her online until I found  an image that resembled her.

'Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.'


From Still I Rise by Maya Angelou