Grasp a handful of fine sand. It drips from between fingers.
The lingered seeps through, leaving your skin with imprints of retention.
Those are the recollections of Bondi Beach and you.
I love beaches.
My mind is a void as I see a sea of tranquil blue water reflecting a formless blue sky.
Not to think. Not needed to think.
I love beaches covered with fine sand.
My feet fall into the sand at the edge of the sea.
The animated molecules bleed into your skin in the deep serene.
Try it. It’s restful and feels like Gaea’s cradle.
Chiefly in Bondi Beach.
A crisp day blossoms somehow right in the heat of summer.
I do not forget to take along some sand for JL.
“How much sand is needed?” I ask.
“A handful. That fills your palm.”
“How about that dribbled from between the fingers?”
“Doesn’t matter”, says JL indifferently.
I only want a handful of memories.
Memories of Bondi Beach and me.
Well. Sand – restless, flowing, floppy, unconfined, voiceless.
It doesn’t matter now.
JL doesn’t respond.
I think I know JL.
Should some stay, should some be gone.
For that lingered, would you conceal it,
or seal it in a crystalline vessel,
placing it at where you can see it?
Victor Tai | Freedom is a Right
- LocationBondi Beach, Sydney, Australia
- CameraiPhone 6 / VSCO
Canon AE1 / FD 28mm f1.4 S.S.C / ILFORD 100
- Other Language繁體中文