In a recent issue of Vogue magazine, you’ll find an article by Laura Bannister titled “On Florida’s Sanibel Island, Shells Are an Eternal Muse.”
She begins:
I had never seen a conference of seashells before, but there it was, plain as anything, just before the sun descended on a Wednesday evening last June. Six scalloped, bivalve shells consorted wordlessly beneath a tiny makeshift pergola, its posts and trelliswork wrought from twigs. Abandoned by the invertebrates they’d once protected, the shells still appeared to be thoroughly alive, outfitted in dirty creams and plummy rouges. As I took a quick photograph, careful not to interrupt, I admired the site their anonymous orchestrator had selected: a mostly unpeopled section of beach, protected from winds by mounds of lime-green shrubbery.
To read the rest of the article, click here!
