so then i found a dollar
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- Posted: Tue, 22 Feb 2005 00:45:33 +0000
I steal glances with a pair of binoculars. They are holding hands on the deck of a sailboat some fifteen meters away, he stares at the water in peace and she watches him, her face clouded with longing.
He is a man of the sea. It runs in his veins like a maddening current. He may love her, but the current is his embrace. The waves are his caress. The sea is his ultimate mistress.
How many years has the woman endured her place? He did not lie when he said she would always be his one and only. He did not lie when he told her they would grow old together.
To him, the ocean is necessary as blood is necessary. As an organ is necessary. It is a vital, real part of him. To her, it is a vice. It is something that he places before her.
He brings her along when he goes out to sea in his boat because he loves her and he wants to show her what it feels like. He wants her to know the freedom that comes only when you are craddled in the waves. She does not see it. She does not enjoy it because she is competitive with that wonder which captivates him.
She used to think she could change him. She was young; she did not know men. With age, she became resigned to her place.
He comes up from behind me and stares out to the couple.
"All she sees is blue swallowing her. All she smells is salt invading her nostrils. All she knows is that no matter how much he loves her, she will always only be second to the sea," I say lowering the binoculars.
"Is that how you feel, that you are second to the sea?"
The sun is sinking, it's almost ten. I capture the fuchsia and the lilac with golden streaks on film. Silence except for the sound of the sea and the clicking of the Pentax. The chill begins to creep up my spine.
I step out of my clothes and untie my hair. The wind pushes against me. I can smell the sea all around me, see the islets scattered in the distance, feel the hair all over my body stand in the cold. The water is a mirror of the sky that shivers.
He smiles, watching me, "do you love the Baltic as much as you love your Pacific?" he asked.
"They are one," I reply, spreading my arms and falling into the cold of the water.
If it is a question of fidelity, both of us will burn in hell.
He is a man of the sea. It runs in his veins like a maddening current. He may love her, but the current is his embrace. The waves are his caress. The sea is his ultimate mistress.
How many years has the woman endured her place? He did not lie when he said she would always be his one and only. He did not lie when he told her they would grow old together.
To him, the ocean is necessary as blood is necessary. As an organ is necessary. It is a vital, real part of him. To her, it is a vice. It is something that he places before her.
He brings her along when he goes out to sea in his boat because he loves her and he wants to show her what it feels like. He wants her to know the freedom that comes only when you are craddled in the waves. She does not see it. She does not enjoy it because she is competitive with that wonder which captivates him.
She used to think she could change him. She was young; she did not know men. With age, she became resigned to her place.
He comes up from behind me and stares out to the couple.
"All she sees is blue swallowing her. All she smells is salt invading her nostrils. All she knows is that no matter how much he loves her, she will always only be second to the sea," I say lowering the binoculars.
"Is that how you feel, that you are second to the sea?"
The sun is sinking, it's almost ten. I capture the fuchsia and the lilac with golden streaks on film. Silence except for the sound of the sea and the clicking of the Pentax. The chill begins to creep up my spine.
I step out of my clothes and untie my hair. The wind pushes against me. I can smell the sea all around me, see the islets scattered in the distance, feel the hair all over my body stand in the cold. The water is a mirror of the sky that shivers.
He smiles, watching me, "do you love the Baltic as much as you love your Pacific?" he asked.
"They are one," I reply, spreading my arms and falling into the cold of the water.
If it is a question of fidelity, both of us will burn in hell.
