fragment from the sea
The sea glows aquamarine, its light coming more from the water, luminous like a jewel under the sullen sky. Winds waft the waves in slow, strong laps against the shore, heralding the rain that has begun to cloud the horizon. The sound of voices crack sharply through the chilly air--one! two! three! heave! Wood creaks and groans as the fishermen struggle to haul the boat to meet the rising tide. Rains or no rains, they will set out to sea--the need to seek sustenance and adventure wins over the drive for self-preservation.
Sitting at the brink of the shore, waves foaming around his ankles, is a boy who dreams. Hair bleached copper by the sun is swept over his brown face. Though he is squinting, as if trying to see past the line of the sky, his eyes are sharp and bright. The men shout again, but nothing distracts his gaze; what he is dreaming of, what he looks for, no one can tell.