Sea looks like molten silver spilt over the glitter of wet sand. The reverberating sound of tide rushing to the shore so deep, like a dictum, and yet full of passion. The molten silver attracted by some unknown charmer, rising, approaching, hitting the dark silhouette of rocks and spreading with each blow of sound, helpless....
The charmer of the seas, the moon...glows bright against the deep blue plane of sky... The moonshine...falls over the scene like thick icy drape, so solid that you can actually feel its silky texture against the skin in the soft night wind.
The glitter of sand, of the water and of the air rises inside you. If you look down at your own body, you can see nothing but the same glow radiating inside.
I wish not to return home. I wish not to think of the city and its lights and its crowds... wish not to think of the moment of return to all that....on that small beach on the west coast I stand alone in the rising tide of the Arabic ocean at my feet.