I have always been fascinated, and strangely drawn, to large stretches of water. Specifically the coast. I spent my childhood weekends in Hastings with my father, and every day, we would walk to the beach. He owned a pharmacy that sat under a great big hill, and overlooked a brown pebbled beach. And an ominous grey sea. As he worked I would venture out, pocketing a Chupa Chup, and just sit on the stones watching time pass by with every wave.
I love the peace the sea can bring, and I admire its absolute vastness. It's absolute and unforgiving power. Nothing on earth I believe has such omnipresent and complete constant force behind it. Volcanoes erupt and die. They wake and then sleep. Like cruel giants grunting in their sleep. The wind will howl, will tear trees form their roots. But in a second will die a quick death. Only the carcasses of fallen houses, scattered leaves, fallen pilons will show it was ever there. Yet the sea - it will turn, and churn. Crash and smash long after you and I are gone. And the stones we throw will erode into sand and dust. Broken memories. Scattered over shores. And eventually lost.
Again. What is this all about?
I'm still not quite sure.
I will visit again tomorrow. Perhaps something will have changed. Even something small...
No comments:
Post a Comment