I can hear the sound of waves coming one after the other; rushing to the shore, even as I lay in bed with my ear against the pillow. It is in my head. This sound of waves. This sound of the sea that I’ve always loved, even as a child. It is only, perhaps the whirr of the blades of the fan. I am cold. It is exactly as I’ve felt this morning lying in a thin sheet of cloth spread on bare sand, with the wind blowing threads against my feet. And it is the same sound of cicadas in chorus.
Written January 7, 2006
Originally posted here.