0018 10242018 E

It rains, it pours heavily. 
I'm on the water. 
It's the sea. 
I'm on a beach. 
No one is here. Because is raining so hard.

The sea is on a tense calm, broken by the rain. The sky and the sea surface are kissing vertically on a continuous torrent. 

And I'm on the middle of it.
Alone. Dipped in the water, eyes at sea level. Holding my breath.

Rains so hard, I taste the water of the sea, and it's sweet. 
I raise my eyes and see the sky going dreadfully from gray to black. Is late in the evening. The sun is muffled high above the heavy clouds. Is there, alien to the grace of all this water talking.

No human eyes but mine.

No sound but the unbroken stream of rain. Water falling over water. Not on the ungrateful floor, not on the thirsty sand: Water greeting water and I'm just on the interchange surface.

The horizon of the sea stretches infinite on water suspended, crashing, bouncing, mixing, melting. 

And I'm alone on the middle of it.

Thunder rumbles over my head, I might die on the water.

Maybe not.

Maybe if a bolt discharges over me, my soul will be kept it's eyes frozen on this moment. On this view. On this moment. On the ever thunderous lovemaking of sweet water and salt, of sky and sea. On this moment, my feet on the sand underwater. Mystery of emotion, array of sensations, consequence of silent and unlikely chance.


Maybe it won't be death.

Maybe it will be a state of eternal grace and wonder, contemplating endlessly the insurmountable glory of nature. Of planetary order. Of all the things and beauty there to be discovered by the life that emerged of the cosmos itself.

It's getting very dark and cold now. The storm is growing angry. 

I walk over the wet hard sand, breaking the howling wind and rain on my way back to the hotel. I Picked my towel under the umbrella by the pool and got myself dry. All the hotel lights are now on. I took the elevator. I rushed to the room and took a hot bath. 

My friends are also at the room sharing it with me. They are watching television; An old movie plays loudly. They are drinking and complaining about the weather. About the bad luck of picking a vacation week on the beach with this dreary weather, as the windows rattle by the wind and water behind them.

I left everyone chatting inside the room, as I opened up the glass window of the balcony. I closed the door behind me and sat down alone outside, in the ravenous climate. It is a night of late October, 1994

As I lit a cigarette, life, death, cosmos, love and nicotine struck my head as the rain reaching my seat soaked my feet.