Dune

Still. Finally still. I live inside a dune, under its white sand that is constantly blown by the light breeze and pushed, moistened by this sea of constant and vigorous waves, not too many or too strong, just perfect. Like a crab, I dig my way to the sea, dipping my body in its water, letting me float lightly, weightlessly, wrapped in a sense of freshness that counters the sun, who insists in warming my body, gladly. My eyes are shut. The light-filled reddish darkness I see hurts my eyes, hallucinating my blood, which is boiled by the sun and by the whole road wandered in the last nine months. Dipping my head, I hear the sea whispering softly to me the shells that come and go, the tide and waves moving, the cadenced dives of fishermen with wings, who fish uninterruptedly, as if the world ended tomorrow. The sea whispers to me its whole bottom, softly, as if I was one more fish, an old friend who returns after a long time. And I am. If doubts subsisted I lose them as I open my eyes and see an old seal floating, swimming next to me, looking at me, joining me in this aquatic moment. Shy, he winks at me and dives when he sees I noticed his presence, going away, throughout the sea. I lose him in the waves, but it does not matter. Instead I just stay here, still, forgotten, looking at the sun who wants also to be a part of this sea, sinking slowly into it, while my body sinks as well as it returns to the dune. My shut eyes listen to the sea rocking my sleep from a distance. I know I am in paradise. I breathe it slowly, once and again, without any sort of rush of breathing it all at once. There is no rush at all, I live inside a dune, still, shackled to the freedom of living paradise.





Vichayito - Mancora, Peru, October 2009