Horizon

When we stepped on the inky beach dimly lit by a waning moon. Almost everywhere you could see abandoned plastic waste and some smashed glass. Couple of steps ahead we found a spot not clean but enough to stand still for an hour. A waning moon behind our head and a sleepy ocean in our vision breathing lightly the waves in and out, the ebb and flow.

I love oceans, when you stand at the beach you feel as though you are standing at the end of the world. The end of the world as you know it, nothing more but a watery horizon. Returning from beach always leaves my heart slightly heavy. I’d say it feels somewhat similar to looking in the mirror. You try to look for something, some flaws, some beauty, the great analysis we all go through since we were kids and somehow all the analysis brings you to the same view - The watery horizon. This is you.

The limits of seeing yourself. Now a dreamer would think of the world beyond and all the possible adventures, a cynic would think of the world behind and think of all the awaiting chores, a romantic would probably write a poem. I think I was none of those things. Each moment of the hour spent on the beach I was awake, aware. I was a friend.

A good thing to be.