DREAMY

It was one of those afternoons where you can’t remember if it was nostalgia or a dream. I was living in a foreign land far from home and in my mind most of my days there were spent on adventures. We had driven through the humid air, skin exposed soaking up the sun with faces glowing from freedom. Our hair was matted by the wind and salt water and we made our way along the narrow roads without a map or sense of destination.

When we reached as far as we could go on our old motorbike, we left it, still with keys in the ignition and began to walk. We ventured through fields and stopped to share freshly picked peanuts with local farmers. We wound our way through the low lying coastal scrub, watching the sea birds sail on the winds high above us. We climbed the dunes and as the scrub became sparse, we found ourselves at the top of a dune.

Before us lay the most magnificent scene. A strip of untouched coast, deserted with the full sun hanging low in the sky. We ran, tearing our shirts and shoes off and throwing our bodies into the ocean. Engulfed by the warming waters, the setting sun cast a brilliance of burnt oranges and violets and the water felt like liquid silk wrapping us up in all its glory.

In the dreamy brilliance of that afternoon, I let myself go fully and completely.