The Sun shines down on the infinite sand.
You are the only one here.
You stand, in this sea of sand, in this tornado of wind, in this painting of orange. The wet sludge engulfing your soft feet.
You look. Into the far distance. The sun blinding your eyes as you do so.
What do you see on that thin blue line?
No. It can’t be!
You thought you were the only one here!
A distorted shape, gliding on the broken waves.
Your hair flies up into the air, the mellow breeze commanding it. There is a sudden salty taste in your mouth.
The sea is within you.
This distorted shape schleps closer and closer to you. Is it a small merchant boat, or an immense cruise, filled with oodles of vacationers? It’s your beach. Tell them to go away. Tell them they can’t have any of this luscious, beige sand, or this salty, cool breeze. Or this feeling of freedom.
Tell them that they can never ever come here.
It’s yours. Only yours.
You have no one. Only the intricate shells on this beach, the scuttling crabs on the shore. The distant squawks of the seagulls. They are your only friends
The sound of the waves crashing against the shore, can’t be replaced with people’s chatters, or the unfolding of beach umbrellas.
The ship advances closer to the shore. It won’t be long until it’s old horn blares into the sky, announcing to everyone that they have finally reached Paradise.
The ship advances closer to the shore. It won’t be long until it’s old horn blares into the sky, announcing to everyone that they have finally reached Paradise.
Your Paradise.
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