Saturday, 29 June 2013
The start, the slow build up and I carry a wry smile which is company for a nod given as I pass strangers. I am not calm; far from it I am manic. This early stretch of coast is not mine; it feels shared, rented with others, not yet. The air still has noise of dogs barking and lawn mowers chewing on grass and overheard conversations of the mundane.
Every curve now and blind spot gets me closer, also further away from the day to day. These curves take on the qualities of the waves so close to me, cleansing and removing the past from me. My heart feels inadequate to fuel this adventure. Although it feels larger in such places it still feels unable to push and pull the red stuff to fully feed the senses and the mind.
I was lucky today; the light followed me around the coast until I finally come to rest at a place that felt like mine. Not sheltered but in the gentle wind with only distant bird song and the sound of the sea. My trusty notebook takes the brunt of rambling thought, musings and ideas. This post was written in the notebook first only to be shared later. This is where the post ends, it continues elsewhere, hidden but dear to me. This is my coast, not tainted by memory and free from noise.