She stood there looking with hope. Or was it sorrow, maybe sadness? I couldn’t tell due to the distance separating us.
We looked at each other from afar as if searching for a connection. Then came a new day and then another one. Days changed to weeks. 

It was like a fading ritual where the picture became more blurry and distant as time passed. It was hard to see anything. That said, there was an accompanying air of togetherness and longing for wisdom that might never come. 

After many weeks, all of a sudden, a fleeting moment occurred where the air started clearing. The distance brought sense and long-awaited hope. The fog separating us disappeared.

Yet, there was nobody there.


I see the nooks, rocks, tiny sand peninsulas formed, as if accidently, by ocean. Walking, I notice the footsteps of others before me. The water evaporates on the hot as hell black beach sand. It creates a misty vail on the horizon. It’s soothing. It resets my internal systems. It reminds and helps to forget.

I have my path set long time ago. I go back and forth as a form of tradition, meditation, sometimes a form of escapism.

It takes away the worries, brings peace among the solitude. The sun in it’s ritual fall adds it’s pastels. Same as in a recepie when you add your favourite flavour on top. Just as much and as little so it’s not ruined.

Everything sets in place. There is only one sunset in a day.  

Using Format