Posted on March 10, 2013
The sky drops right down to the sea, and shears a perfect horizon at the edge of the world where the air meets salt water. The sea exhales, lilting undulant murmurs which curl and crease up to a wrinkle and then smooth again in turn. Rise and fall. As regular and certain as the breath, as the expanding and contracting of the lungs.
The sun flickers and wanes. A light bulb going out. It skips and glints across the frothy tips.
It’s always there, and always to be found. Once it has found you, and you have absorbed its salted sweet essence it will seep into a chamber of your heart and never leave. You will always be able to find it there, when you need it.
And you will always come back for more.
© images and content Emily Hughes and searchingtosee, 2013