random thoughts from days on an Italian beach
It’s weird to be in a place so dreamlike, staring off into the distant mountains, waves relentlessly rising and falling, pushing you forward and pulling you back in the trough, hearing the laughter and splashing of kids, and feeling weightless floating in the sunny sea. Contemplating my future, trying to turn myself into something, foolishly. Why can’t we live without needing to “be” something, why can’t we just be, why can’t we just live.
Moments later I’ll be pulled back, out of the trough that is my mind, perhaps by a shout of one of the boys, or by the end of a thought. And I’ll realize where I am, and how I’m being innundated with words that sound familiar as if trying to remember a dream, and then I give up, with still the words flowing in and out of my ears. Reminding me where I am, and reminding me that even though I’m here, I can never truly be a part of it. I will always be an observer of the scene, because resting in the sea while staring off into dreamy blue mountains isn’t a normality for me, It’s the people that don’t need to look twice at their surrounding, it’s those that swim in it, that are a part of it.
The beach, is this mix of perfection and hell. You’re in this beautiful place, blue mountains, in the not too distant horizon, with cool sparkling waters refreshing your feet that were burned by the sand some moments ago, and the salty waters mix with your spf 50 sunscreen that will sting your eyes for the next 30 minutes, wash off in the water, and end with you being sunburnt to a crisp.
After a few of these disconnected thoughts, slowly I noticed how cold the water started to feel, so I worked my way back to the shore. I began to realize that there are little pockets of warm water, where the water absorbs more sunlight, you just have to feel around for it, take a step here or there, stick out your leg, idk maybe it’s a metaphor for something.
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