A friend who lived here several years told me that one day I'll stop in to see the sea ...
Sometimes I go back to the car in the city by a narrow and bumpy sand running through the thicket, where there are scattered some hurdle house, and I stop for a moment and looked at the sea. I contemplate and think: "The day I stopped him definitely know that it was time to go". A sign that I missed in the routine of everything, in looks and comfortable resting in the shadows weary from staring.
I contemplate and think: "The day I stopped him definitely know that it was time to go"
The sea is all where I live there. In the photo lejana, where you see a group of houses and islands background, is "my borrowed house". Is that cabin right dress that overlooks the Indian. Some nights I was silent in my small porch smoking a cigar and listening to the beat of the sea. Other, I approach we light the bonfire on the beach and watch a spot infinite in which shock waves are permeated.
Everything is sea, as when under the beach and helped the fishermen to pull nets laying morning (something I do not do much because as soon as I walk let me pulling the net while sitting behind them encourage me). Groups of women and children for an hour dragging eternal network, it weighs like the ocean and brings small fish are eaten by dozens of people without seeing them live near me. Live there, in the infinite thicket begins and ends at our door in the high dunes of the Sahara, with houses embedded in a green tangle which survive from their small gardens and its small sea, the distances to the barefoot are always close in the vastness. Never know where they come from or where they're going.
The distances for the barefoot are always close in the vastness. Never know where they come from or where they're going
I also like to watch the dhows sail diffuse candles with black cloth I thought until one day walking along the beach near me that some fishermen were mending and found that they were similar to plastic garbage bags . I think I do not look like, despite their distant elegance, lost the charm that is diluted in the knowledge that they share something with my bins (I have not had to find out if the Yellow sails are recycled paper bags). Even so, their wooden masks retreating catch me at breakfast that I stick to the dawn.
Other times on a walk or run along the beach and I get to where I leave the waves, far fit my feet in the sand. I do little for work, the hours you drop your legs in a place where everything is delayed by custom, acquired right to live in this place. You almost feel like an idiot when you get timely, I have a bad hobby, ridicule and shame hidden fact have come at a time. "No, in, If I just arrived », explain the sweaty shirt have been waiting for an hour in the sun.
And sometimes back breakfast, sleep watching TV, run with the car climbing the sand without stopping a moment, perceive no waves, I oblivion networks, dhows and fishermen, step off the campfire sand and think "fuck, What if one day I stop seeing the sea?”. I think that the only way I found to be reasonably happy is not to get carried away by that "pessimism or realism" of the experienced that surrounds his reluctant in a destiny that projects you as impassable: "You will stop seeing the sea". Hopefully, if it occurs, remember this post and have the courage to go.
