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The wind blew in from the south, bringing in the waves with renewed zest. I sat facing the west. The sea’s vast expanse lay sprawled before me, as the waves lolled to a restless stop at the foot of the rocks. Around me couples crowded in cuddly love, savouring the attention some others gave them. I could hear my friends laughing and fooling around. I stayed away, trying to enjoy the moment.
In those few moments of absolute solitude, I relaxed. I lost myself in the sounds of the sea crashing against the wet rocks. I listened to the sound of little wings flapping vainly against strong gusts. I watched the sun dip his orange fingers into the grey waters, staining the sky with a pink shade. I watched an artist at work, painting a large canvas. I stayed still, not wanting to move. I became a part of the painting.
How many moments like these have I lost? Scores? millions? In search of something more vibrant, I have lost silence. I have lost the joy of listening. The primal joy of sitting empty upon a wet rock and watching the waves come and go. Staying up all night just to watch the sun rise. Sitting empty and silent watching the sun set. Moments that make you feel someone was there to share. And yet, you knew to utter a word would destroy the moment. To wish for friends who look at you and know you are lost somewhere. To know that regardless of how long you take, they will wait.
We left soon. But I did not. I stayed there. Looking at the sea long after the sun had gone. Long after I could see anything. I stayed there longing for the peace of those few moments. Wanting a piece back from time, when my heartbeat breathed a sigh of relief.
Everything seems so finite and limited. But don’t you think that is what makes these times and moments so special?