Acatalepsy

The back door whispers goodnight, and you slip outside. You decided to leave your towel at home, so your swimsuit and bare feet leave you vulnerable. Nevertheless, your toes start to chase the ever-dimming moon down the asphalt. Five blocks later, you are truly home. Your blackened feet dance down the stairs until your feet reach the sand. And the beach is yours. From the moment you run fearlessly to the frigid water, and submerge yourself in the curved wave, you’re no longer who you once were. As the heavy surf rolls over your head, you feel aware. Alive. You were thrust from an world of indignant, linear information to the beauty of the unknown. When you are underwater, you follow no path. Your back curves behind you, and your legs kick in circles. Every so often, you’re enriched with foam that sprints forward, faster, then slower, to the shore. The wave kisses the sand and then falls back away, and you lunge off the bottom to dive back down again. You belong here, even though you can’t come much, but you feel the magic when the water brushes through your hair, welcoming you home. Despite the fact that there’s no oxygen underwater, that your lungs aren’t satisfied, your soul is: you can breathe so much better down here.

Reviews

[Leo L.]

"Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it."
~Confucius

A great job as the writer to let us 'see' the beauty. Amazing piece, as always :)

[Kamran Javed]

well expressed.