Over the years, the bombardment of barreling waves during high tide has carved a bowl into a stone wall. Avoiding its inevitable disintegration by time, the contorting rock has accepted its deep cracks like wrinkles on an aging face. The veined boulder claims home to thousands of suckering plankton. They feed on the thin layer of sea algae that cloaks the gritty backdrop. The plankton are animals of the jungle, each vying for survival against the ocean of a lion.
Daily, when the roaring ocean subsides and ceases to rage against its prey, a sanctuary is unveiled. Seaweed hairs race across a garden of rocks. They find themselves entangled amongst dozens of various shaped stones. The rocks are fruit, each varying in texture and prosperity. Several appear calloused and bruised by the water or spotted and mildewed with seaweed. Others are as free as birds. Not feeling any distress, their smooth and slick bodies lay un-weathered and in season for prime picking. The sun can’t quite stretch its arms into the area which accounts for the dim lighting. A salty stench lingers in the air.
Today a young man is able to find solitude in this cavernous oasis. Nestled behind a jumble of rocks, his sun-soaked body dramatically contrasts the glossy green seaweed. The chilling ocean breeze forces him to hug his legs for warmth. Damp seaweed drapes the landscape like plastic wrap. He finds its slick, gooey texture unsettling. Burying his face between his knee caps, he becomes aware of the dryness in his mouth. His nostrils burn from the saline atmosphere.
No comments:
Post a Comment