Dark sea on my right. Buildings and lights to my left (way too noisy for my liking). In front, a straight long stretch as far as my eyes can see. Then a bend on the beach. Further down, nothing I can make out even with the bright moonlight. So I went in that direction - away from the city-noise towards the nature-noise. Away we go.
Loud music drowning slowly in the sounds of white caps crashing. Now and then: the occasional giggle of drunken couples merging into shadows. Some time after, just the steady beat of oceanic music.
Peace. Calm. Indifference. The sand was smooth. Where it was still wet, it clung to my toes.
The night sky:
I counted 61 stars at least. Most bright. Some dim. All from light-years away. But I can't really tell because I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. Why, you may ask? Because, on more than one occasion, I see stars in the waters, on sand, and even my palms. But we can be sure there were at least 61 that night.
The lights on the horizon:
Blue and red.
The blues: two, slow & shifting. The reds: 6 rapidly blinking; 1 unchanging. Another was a unique blend of both colours.
The other sounds:
**Room at the End of the World**Drop To Hold You**Buses & Trains**Falling Not Flying**A Lack of Color**Stay Close, Don't Go**My Boy Builds Coffins**A Comet Appears**Keep Faith**They Bring Me To You**Somebody That I Used To Know**Vegetable Car**Take Your Time** The drift: At one point, I cease to be. I was not awake but nor was I asleep. Sort of in a limbo. I heard the music, I tasted the salty air, I felt the silken sand, I saw the lights - both natural and man-made - but all those and more I did from outside; as if viewing myself from a distance. From another man's point of view, if you'd like. The change: The waves moved farther away from the stone-strewn shores. The lights-of-man shut itself off one by one, while the lights-of-sky multiplied. People got tired and left for bed. The shops closed their doors and I was vaguely aware of how alone I was on that beach. The biting air was getting too cold. So, I forced myself into my body. The last walk: It was chilly. The receding tide and the lack of other lifeforms made the space three times as large. And it was in that huge expense of land that I walked, under the watchful eye of the full moon - obscured as it was behind toiling clouds - to my humble abode. The land now had a silvery sheen to it, and after the bend on the path and a few hundred steps, I made it. The parting of ways: Without any delays, fatigue took over and sleep came easy. The misty night air says bye bye at door number 9. The after-image: A deserted beach. A full moon. 61 or so stars. Billions of sand particles. Two sets of footprints - one going, the other coming back. On a backdrop of island outcropping. All in all, a beautifully ghostly scene fit for a fairth.