A Secret Place The coiled intestines of divination A chain of blood-red hills a large stony valley littered with

blocks of stone schist and crystal intersected with parallel rock ravines Deer come down at night in search of dew a somber entrance to a petrified forest stretching all the way to the seashore petri-facts of different sizes and indifference rock trees with stone branches petroliths of solid vegetation We skirt the recumbent trees an unknown species no longer existing The heat grows intense the place wild and abandoned with melancholy A herring gull calls out as it hovers curiously overhead at last the stentorian boom of the surf We lie dazed by the pearl-blue nescience by the lick of the midday sun stripped naked the waves bursting the seaweed of our thoughts rotting on the beach We fall into the exploding waves pale white phantoms of ourselves get sucked seaward in the undertow as it draws its hissing breathe drags at our ankles We maintain a distance from the deafening roar of the surf swimming in elation diving deep into a new area of understanding in the sea of ourselves Sea-buffeted and breathless salt-encrusted and brown as tobacco we stack up driftwood on the beach sand too hot to step on one of the grove of ankylosed trees offers a pool of shade at the waters edge deliciously cooled with a creeping breeze The water evaporates off leaving us smelling of sea salt seasoned by what we shared © @ Z Guadamour, 2011

Sign up to vote on this title
UsefulNot useful