Even if it’s +4C on 8 a.m. and cold north wind blows right in my face, I do not care and touch the sand and sea with my bare feet, because it’s spring!
“Standing looking out to sea can be like standing at an altar.”
When after a few days of absence you finally get there.
Yesterday I left a book at the beach for someone else to find it and have it, to probably read it, to discover.
This photo captures all what Beach Books is about. Reading books about the sea by the sea, with love.
Side by side with the seaside is the place I do belong. Silently tiptoeing over my own horizon.
Nothing to add, the sea.
“But where do winds come from, and where do they go?”
Essay on why I threw my iPhone in the river three years ago and why I would never do that today.
The silky skin of the beach, irresistibly soft. If you touch, you destroy all the love letters the wind has written in wrinkles.