How far a body can drive on a windless day.
I try to imagine, my head rising
above the ocean as a lonely swimmer, eye level 15 cm. I need that imagination
because in reality my head behind the monitor is not moving at all.
The Pacific.
One moment silent and calm, the following exploding in a cloud
of foam. Always fear of a heavy downpour turning up out of nothing and
hitting with full force.
One evening the air is so quiet I can
hear my breathing the other I listen to the screech of the birds, nesting
with thousands on the little corale islands, flying above me.
I think about Frisbie who could save his four children in an hurricane by
binding them up to the branches of tamanutrees, flexible enough to bend with
the wind until the gale is over.
I am too happy to be concerned about lacking in human connections.
I fall in love with a porpoise following me on my lonely trip of thousands of
kilometres. I remember the first moment I hit upon him and the tender feelings
are coming back up again. A long and curious frienship started. Each night I
felt a ravenous longing, I hung around coming up to nothing, just longing for
that reliable voice. The conflict of taking distance from my porpoise took a
week. Lonelyness is back and I am happy.
