Seaside DreamsWritten and Photographed By: Farrah Fox
At sunset, the air has a different color. It has a different weight. It feels like it’s worth more. Taking that dusk air into your lungs seems to fill them up more than normal daylight air does. It gives the phrase “a breath of fresh air” new meaning. Combined with the love of standing at the seaside, watching wave after wave roll in, this sunset air is something like magic. There on the sand, you’re safe. You’re dry and you’re warm. But something about the water is beckoning to you, begging you to go in. The light breeze is nipping at you, pulling on your hair and tugging on your clothes, restless and pleading. The glowing orbs of light from the pier reach through the dark, floating and sparkling on the top of the breaking waves. And soon you’re among them, dancing with the rushing water and the blinking jewels of light. You’re bobbing there, letting the force of millions of tons of water move your feeble body whichever way it pleases. The sun is low in the sky, sinking ever lower into the ocean’s depths, taking with it the presence of light it provides. Its fading orange glow spreads across the surface of the water, split up into diamond-shaped pieces by the choppy black-green waves. The millions of orange gems wink and glint at you, smiling in the shivery cold. With every fiber of your being you feel the chill of the water as well as some great warmth coming from inside of you and around you. This warmth is keeping you afloat, keeping you safe in this icy haven. And you’re alone in this oasis. The people around you and behind you aren’t there; they have melted into the sound of the waves crashing and the bubbles rushing in your ears. In the distance, your eye catches on a faraway lump of water coming closer. The speed it’s moving at is immeasurable and there’s no telling how long it will take to meet you. It’s impossible to tell whether the white foam of this crashing wave will overtake you, forcing you under its foaming depths, or if this small swell will let you float over it before its foamy fate, a quick separation from the sandy floor, only to rejoin with it once again. As it nears you, gaining momentum, the crest of the wave begins to foam and bubble, forming a steepening wall of water. You wait until it has practically consumed you, until this balancing act is towering above you, and you calmly slip beneath it, side-stepping the resulting tumult and entering a perfect chaos. Water rushes and pushes around you and you can feel the turn and rumble of the waves, completely safe from all their might. The silent roar of the surging water is indescribably tranquil and pure, a cleansing and addicting adrenaline rush in one descent below the surface. Your petty existence can’t soften this blow, can’t slow down the tide or the turn of the earth. With every swell that lifts your small self up or tosses you under its wrathful current, there’s nothing you can do to stop it. You are helpless to this power and humbled by its strength. Sitting here in all this glory and beauty, you soak it in with every bit of you in order not to lose the stillness and serenity of this perfection. |