Seasons come and go, taking sun chairs with them. I do love a rainy Autumn evening on a silent, deserted beach.
Yesterday I left a book at the beach for someone else to find it and have it, to probably read it, to discover.
Jorge Luis Borges wrote, we always see the sea for the first time.
You don’t need an LSD when water starts to play with sun and sky.
“the pulse of colour flooded the bay with blue, and the heart expanded with it and the body swam”
“The shore is an ancient world, for as long as there has been an earth and sea there has been this place of the meeting of land and water.”
“But that day, as I sat on the tranquil shore, it was possible to believe one was gazing into eternity.”
“Sometimes the lone walker feels that he is moving backwards in time, and sometimes that he stands at the threshold of a different world”
“Standing looking out to sea can be like standing at an altar.”
It has been a while since I had such a good laugh while reading a book. The sixth novel by British writer Alice Thompson, “Burnt Island”, kicks the literary world wittily in the balls.