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who always deeply desired to live by the sea - immensely dragged by its smell anytime he took a train to the beach on holidays:

how the sun heated and eventually dried up the salty water on his bathed, bronze-glazed skin,

how the reflection of the azure light from the modest waves tingled in his eyes or how the quiet buzz of the island made him rapturously calm,

when he could spend hours and hours merely surrendering himself to the ambiance,

just lying on the warm rocks clasped by the holy water, - twenty-five years later, that day sold all his values, took all his savings, and finally bought and renovated a small stone house on the shore, where he went for his first swim elevated and intoxicated by the achievement of this long devoted goal,

swam restlessly obliviously away from the small stone house,

away from the warm rocks and away from the island’s quiet buzz;

so far that the inevitable threat of the great open sea welcomed him entirely, snarling on his lively arrival with its mystical strength,

turning wild into a dark red wave,

scrolling on wholly in the azure divine,

whereafter it eventually found rest on the warm rocks of a distant shore. 


A One-Sentence Story written in May 2020.
Featured in Rietveld Journal, original edition

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