bliss

Posted at 14 Nov 3:16 pm. 0 comments

Everyone’s downstairs in the pool, swimming, taking pictures with poshkin’s underwater camera.

I’m not with them for a number of reasons, but I’ve opened the sliding door to the balcony and parted the floor-length curtains so there’s nothing but a wrought-iron rail between me and the horizon.

I’m curled in a chair with a pillow, basking in the breeze as my fingers coax a story from the keyboard without guidance. The laptop is balanced on my knees, rigged to a speaker amplifying Depeche Mode, and two bottles – one of a strong alcohol mix, the other of cool water – are conveniently at hand.

All I can see is the vast grayness of the ocean and sky, textured with waves and clouds, their immense pent-up power dwarfed by infinite space. I struggle to take it all in, find myself absorbed by it instead, am turned inside out and sent to soar over the endless seascape. The wind in my hair smells faintly of saltwater and ozone.

Words are inadequate for this feeling of security, of happiness and utter peace. My thoughts drift gently with the tide, from imaginary world to real one. Both are equally delightful.

Bliss comes in many forms.