We’re all listening to the waves of an ocean we can’t see. It’s an odd feeling when the view below eerily mirrors the view above. Some of the white sea foam crashing on the black rocks resemble the cirrus moonlit clouds in the night sky. It feels like I’m suspended in a timeless and dark pocket of the country’s Celyon past.
This area of space hasn’t changed in millennia. Beaches tend to do that to my consciousness. I lose any semblances of time as they transport me back countless ages and show no regard for any history thrust upon their shores. It’s a short trip back to the primordial before I hear the sounds of a modern city behind me. Continue reading
