A few days after the storm, I tip-toed across Sania beach for the first time. I had been down there already, though not made it to the beach itself, not made it across the rocks. I’d mostly spent the first few days on the bottom step, listening to the sea hit the cliffs. I feel it move up and out of the cove, watch it travel towards the house, let myself travel with it. Then I’d head back up the steps.
This time I do walk across the beach, which is covered in seaweed, sea sponges and other Things thrown up by the storm. I find a phone, goggles, a fabric leaf, a glove giving me the middlefinger, more than a dozen dry sea sponges, lots and lots of plastic bottles, rope, a tennis ball, a bracelet, a lime green shard of hard plastic, a translucent milk carton. I thought maybe I’d collect these Things, bring them back to the house. I thought I’d like to see if they might tell me something, see if they had anything to say, anything that wanted to be heard. I was curious to know where they’ve come from, where they’ve been until now.
Read the full piece here: https://rlfinestres.com/en/something-red-2/
cealck | hc. krempels 