Six Gorgeous Moments in a Summer Day at a Seaside Town



Light sneaks into the room through the wide open windows and trespasses my shut eyelids until it reaches my hypothalamus and suddenly I’m awake. I get up and hurry to roll the shutters down. It’s imperative to capture as much of the coolness that has gotten into the house during the night as possible. I leave the windowpanes opened though. I open the back door and step into the vibrant  freshness of the morning. The blues and greens and yellows  wrap me in full force and I breathe in sheer purity. I think it’s a wonderful morning to go to the beach. Nothing compares to the beach in the morning hours. I hear the birds twitting and the insects buzzing. I turn around and got into the dark coolness of the house again. I drank some cold juice straight from the carton and got into the bedroom. I go back to sleep without a hint of remorse whatsoever; paradise.


I’ve been running some errands and I can feel the blazing sun on my skin. I wear a brimmed hat, sunscreen with the highest true SPF and sunglasses, but the heat scorches my skin as well as my brain anyway. I walk along the street market and let myself be pushed and pull and shoved by the incessant current of people coming and going along the narrowest of passages, just like neurotic ants and I got dizzy.  I stop now and then at different stalls to look at clothes, cheeses, eggs, wooden utensils. I comment on those with my mother who accompanies me; but what lures me is the display of vegetables and fruit; the glorious abundance they represent, the vitality. I feel full as if I had already lunched; enticing.


Housework is done; chores finished. Music, loud as it always is in this home has come to a stop. The cats have been fed and a bowl of fresh water is on the kitchen’s floor. The knowledge that animals have fresh water to drink provides me with a strong sense of tranquility.  The luxurious cleanliness of the house represents all the  safety I need. I walk around barefoot  savouring the coolness of the tiles.  The house is dark and cool and fresh. Outside the sun pulses relentlessly and all living creatures have been called to silence and stillness in front of such impossing master. I’m satiated on quiteness. I lay on bed facing my beloved fan at its highest speed because I thrill with the sensation of my skin-hair bristling in the cold air and I read a book or watch the Barclay’s Premier League until I doze off; abandonment.


Polarity has changed. Tha darkness inside doesn’t hold any coolness any longer. It’s heavy and suffocating. The bricks in the walls have sucked in all the heat from outside. The heat transforms my light sleep into an oppressive unconsciousness until I wake up from lack of air sweaty and thirsty. I urge myself to run away. I don’t like the beach but there’s no other place cooler.  I load my scooter and head for the beach. After struggling to cross the dunes I’m at the shore. This sea is actually an estuary which means you can get whatever state of the water that nature fancies: Green or brown or in-between. Salty or fresh or brackish or in-between. Clear or dirty or in between. Calm or turbulent or in-between. It just explicits the one and only constant in the Universe: permanent change. I lay my stuff on the baked sand while the sun burns mercilessly my neck, shoulders and the thin skin over my feet and behind my knees. I head for the water and I taste it with my little finger. Salty means high probability of jellyfish.  I dive in the sea and feel the instant coolness on my crown and neck and face and armpits; relief.


I stand at a corner of the main avenue of this small town. I’ve had a bath and feel fragrant. My skin is absolutely clean of sweat and sunscreen, and salt, and sand. I feel the refreshing breeze on my arms and face and legs and wet hair. The sun has set and this twighlight is full of vigour. I absorb the movement around me; close enough to be enjoyed, far enough to keep this airy comfort.  I connect with this invisible bond of ease and cheerfulness  that links all of us, passers-by, in this summer evening; communion.


The house is dark and all doors and windows are wide open to the breeze and dampness of the night. I’ve dinned deliciously and I sat at the porch chatting with my friend. We watch the stars and the children playing in the street. The air brings the last smells of distant barbecues mixed with waves of salt and sand and pinetree. Beyond this moment lay multiple possibilities for pleasure. I’ll read well into the night or watch cartoons or even a movie. When the time comes to beckon sleep, I’ll be rocked by the rhythm of silence; by the melody of crickets chirping and the ephemeral Doppler’s  effect of a lone car engine speeding  along the route at the back of my house; soothing.

Then I close my eyes and my last insight reckons how plenty simplicity can be.


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