Oltremare with Aaron
Ever since I met Aaron, Oltremare has gained an entirely new meaning; a notion is added to the tunes by Einaudi that is indelibly inscribed in my memory. A remembrance that becomes instantly vivid by listening to the sounds of the old sea.
I am walking by the beach, along this slim section where the sea sweeps over sand, feet wet, and returns, dry warmth entering from beyond. The sky is covered with the most picturesque clouds, as if taken from a Dutch landscape painting. In between, there are rays of sunlight tracing their way down on me. Random moments. Flashes. Then the clouds unite again, and it's somewhat gloomy but in a curious way. The world adopts these colours signifying a shift, the world on the edge of change, ever so pervasive in the four elements. It's in the air. Everywhere, mingled with this slightly salty taste of what has been there since the beginning of all things. The beach stretches on forever, only delimited by the horizon. Every once in a while a sea gull chirps above my head and then gets mute, as if apologizing for interrupting Oltremare. In my footsteps there is a dog following me inconspicuously. My dog. A self-willed creature, as much as I am; best of buddies is what we are. He is sniffing the sea breeze, feeling at ease, as much as I am. The tunes. The old sea. And your shadow walking by my side. We are wearing caps, black ones looking as though we'd be robbing a bank the next moment. It's Indian Summer, not exactly fresh but August has long gone. "Kafka-esque," your favourite word. You utter it gently and I nod habitually. No talking. Just incidental glimpses to the side. Shy smiles as if we'd be walking this beach for the very first time. Shy as if we'd still have the moment of melting souls ahead of us. Shy as if everything was still ahead of us when all that matters is here and now. The present, the threshold trespassed long ago. Just you, and me, and Oltremare ...
(dedicated to Aaron and Ludovico Einaudi, two of the numerous things that make life worthwhile, but two of the most beautiful ones)
I am walking by the beach, along this slim section where the sea sweeps over sand, feet wet, and returns, dry warmth entering from beyond. The sky is covered with the most picturesque clouds, as if taken from a Dutch landscape painting. In between, there are rays of sunlight tracing their way down on me. Random moments. Flashes. Then the clouds unite again, and it's somewhat gloomy but in a curious way. The world adopts these colours signifying a shift, the world on the edge of change, ever so pervasive in the four elements. It's in the air. Everywhere, mingled with this slightly salty taste of what has been there since the beginning of all things. The beach stretches on forever, only delimited by the horizon. Every once in a while a sea gull chirps above my head and then gets mute, as if apologizing for interrupting Oltremare. In my footsteps there is a dog following me inconspicuously. My dog. A self-willed creature, as much as I am; best of buddies is what we are. He is sniffing the sea breeze, feeling at ease, as much as I am. The tunes. The old sea. And your shadow walking by my side. We are wearing caps, black ones looking as though we'd be robbing a bank the next moment. It's Indian Summer, not exactly fresh but August has long gone. "Kafka-esque," your favourite word. You utter it gently and I nod habitually. No talking. Just incidental glimpses to the side. Shy smiles as if we'd be walking this beach for the very first time. Shy as if we'd still have the moment of melting souls ahead of us. Shy as if everything was still ahead of us when all that matters is here and now. The present, the threshold trespassed long ago. Just you, and me, and Oltremare ...
(dedicated to Aaron and Ludovico Einaudi, two of the numerous things that make life worthwhile, but two of the most beautiful ones)
karma_police - 19. Jan, 21:50
