Positivity Redux

I stood up to my chest in the sea, closed my eyes and imagined what it would be like to get swallowed whole by a 30-foot wall of blue, while the sun was shining and the beach behind me sparkled intermittently from the reflection of light off seashells and shards of glass and bottle caps.

I felt, instead, the crest of a small wave as it knocked me back and under, my eyes still closed, reaching out and feeling nothing.

I broke the surface with a shout of joy and then of remorse. And then of gladness.

And of gratitude.

I hate it when I think too much whenever I'm travelling, but for fuck's sake, it's good to be alive.

Medan, New Orleans, Phuket around Christmas in December 2004.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry because my empathy felt displaced, it felt corollary.

I couldn't help but feel this incredible feeling of sadness as I walked out of the surf. Transient as it was. Fleeting, as it was.

But I felt it all the same.