I sit on my terrace again, sipping hot chocolate and watching the ocean fade into pink, then orange, as the sun peeks over the horizon. I`ve watched this many times and never grow tired of it. On a clear morning, the perfect sphere rises from the water and says hello, good morning, what another fine day it`s going to be here in the Mediterranean. Malaga, no dobut, is paradise. No sight of Autumn yet. No smell of rain nowwhere. I watch in silence because silence is sweet to hear.
I trail my thoughts for a minute. The waves rocking against the rocks. Sweet slights in the distance. I can see those small boats, in the distance too. I am lost without my sea. The mediterranean reveals me in the mystery what her world could mean to me and the rest of us.
Tuning out the dawn life, tuning out the waves. I check an imaginary map but it`s useless and I am lost withtout her presence. Even in the distance her voice is my only guidance. if life was like the songs, I would across the curved horizon and forget her and be gone for ever.
By night, I stand on my small balcony and stare at the moon over the mediterranean. I breathe the salty air and listen to the waves gently roll ashore. Freedom is exhilarating, and indescribable. Once again I can`t wait to feel sand between my toes. Tomorrow I definitely will go for a swing; people who roam aimlessly up and down beaches are lost in their own worlds, and I am getting lost in mine. No one notices; no one cares. Tomorrow, but now the old lighthouse is the perfect place to be. I feel a sense of accomplishment. I just pulled off the first little mission of my secret existence. Grand.
Sergio Calle Llorens