Your gaze slides along the surface of the water. Waves hug your feet. Warm sun rays slither up your back, endlessly, towards your neck…while you face the first-morning mistral.
It’s 8 am. There is nothing and nobody else but you, seagulls and the light that dances on the glimmering green surface of the Adriatic, tamed by its islands. The beat of your heart is deafening the silence of the dreaming village. It might occur to you that silence is not deaf, whiteness not empty, nor truth harsh. Sounds of the sea, pebbles and the breeze that gets caught in the corner of a sail are pushing you deeper into the cushions of your chair. The sun is proudly climbing up.
What sets you apart from the water is daydreaming, or rather, your embodiment in eternity – if eternity could have a name. Just a step away from the deep blue, you’re drowning in emptiness, so you hesitate to feel the other element. Your body is still preoccupied with the warmth of your bed, where its shape still lingers. You can’t decide, so you get up and stretch. Your head is buzzing with hundreds of tricks – how to avoid the unavoidable, how to surrender and get into that water. While you’re becoming one with the morning, something behind the scenes is on your side. That something weds your daring effort to pluck yourself out of perfect softness of your mattress, with the void that contains you and the beach.
You are stepping into the water. Here, steps away from your bedroom, five hundred meters of smooth stones polished by the waves, are leaving you behind. You’re losing support and gravity is gone. It’s calming. You’re heading for the depth, towards the world of algae, of pebbles, seashells and toothlike rocks. This morning, just like every morning from 8 to 10, before bathers open up their sunshades, millions of pebbles, gallons of seawater, floating fish clouds and pastures of seagrass are here just for you…if you only sneak out early to the beach…