The Sea

“I’m afraid of the Sea”, she said, “although I’ve never been there or seen it. It’s not that its size makes me feel uneasy. Some people just can’t handle the idea that they can be out at sea for days, weeks, or months even and all they can see is water far and wide. Their minds simply go blank at the thought and they are swept away by those vicious waves, their tongues taste sand between their teeth, desperately pushing around the grains in their mouths, and their clothes and hair are soaked with water and crusted with salt wherever they are in that moment. But that’s not”, she looked up, “how it is for me. It’s not that I’m afraid of drowning either or getting lost without knowing where to go, I’d march for miles and miles at the bottom of the ocean if I had to, I know, it’s just– I– I– can’t explain, that’s just . . . how it is.

And that’s why I want to live near the Sea.”

She was afraid of the sea.

The Sea

a clock that is stuck
in the folds of time, ticking,
its hands aflutter