For the last few months the city government have been redecorating (is that the correct word here?) one of the parks near my house. The have added some fancy looking street lights, made new walkways and put up new fences around the canal, all in all making it a nicer place to be. As part of this redecoration they have also put up little groups of tables and chairs where people can sit and chat. For some reason, I suspect it is a case of prioritizing design over function, their choice of chairs fell on dinky little backless stools – … Read the rest
The sun has just started to set, it's noticeably lower in the sky but still bright and warm, shining right at me. My hat shields my face from its rays but I can feel its warmth on my bare chest. It paints a broad streak of silver on the water's surface, like a glimmering road across the tops of the waves, from the ever shifting waterline on the wet sand all the way out to the horizon. I stand a few feet out in the water with the waves washing over my ankles, watching that strip of silver as if mesmerized by the way it sparkles, drawing in my eyes until I see nothing else. I feel the cool breeze one my back, I feel the sand being washed out from under my feet as I sink down into it, I hear the wooshing of the waves that, though not loud, drowns out the sounds from the people around me. It is a strange thing this, this urge that makes me kick off my shoes and go stand in the water, this instinctive need for meditation that only the ocean can fulfill.