Watching al the empty bottles on the beach, I wonder what their message is.
Inspecting every little detail, as it was an alien stranded on the beach, I am trying to read its message. Not from the paper note, which only exists in songs and movies – isn’t it, mister Wilson? – but from the bottle itself.
Where does it come from, where is it going to, how was its journey, how did he end up here? Where did it met its fellows, on the road or did they gather afterwards, had they a planned reunion, or did they bump into one another by coincidence? What are they up to? Is this this their final destination or are they moving on any soon?
How did they come into existence, where are they made of? Will they return to dust and ashes, or will they stay here for ever? Who is responsible for it? Would they stay, or should they go, and if they go, where should they go to?
Watching from the coastline to the centre of the island, the quest becomes bigger. What happens with the plastic on the island, and with waste in general? Do they burn it, like the waste along the coast, or in the trash cans, or the slowly burning fires randomly spread over the island? Or would they have deposits, or ship it back to the mainland, and how will it continue its journey afterwards? And who is actually responsible for all the waste taking in by the ones who are visiting the island?
The plastic trace is worth a billion of blogposts and words, but it is too soon yet to answer these questions here and now. Give me some time, I’ll come back at it soon. In the meantime, please do question whenever you buy, use or deposit plastic, where it comes from and where it will go to; wherever you are, it does not return to dust and ashes out of itself.