Thursday, March 10 - Bodrum
Have you ever tried to watch the sea? I mean, sure, an empty beach looks simple enough, quiet, stationary. But you can’t focus on ripples; they don’t move, and they certainly don’t stay still. No, they split and combine, split and combine, like a disease, like life. Far away they jiggle, while up close they move--no, they don’t move--they exist.
Pick one. It’s easy enough: find a ripple, call it Mary. Soon, Mary is no longer distinguishable, but is part of a family. Like an elderly woman frazzled by dozens of grandchildren, it’s all you can do to keep the gang of Marys in sight. For a moment you think you’ve lost them, you find another cloud of ripples and convince yourself it’s them again. The family is bigger this time, and swimming faster out to sea, as though late for a date with the sun. You lose sight of them. Meanwhile, thousands of new ripples are being born on the shore--right over there!--but you’ve been there before; it’s like watching TV reruns one time too many. Your gaze searches in vain for the Mary you nurtured from the shoreline, now lost in the horizon’s brilliant electricity.
Pick one. It’s easy enough: find a ripple, call it Mary. Soon, Mary is no longer distinguishable, but is part of a family. Like an elderly woman frazzled by dozens of grandchildren, it’s all you can do to keep the gang of Marys in sight. For a moment you think you’ve lost them, you find another cloud of ripples and convince yourself it’s them again. The family is bigger this time, and swimming faster out to sea, as though late for a date with the sun. You lose sight of them. Meanwhile, thousands of new ripples are being born on the shore--right over there!--but you’ve been there before; it’s like watching TV reruns one time too many. Your gaze searches in vain for the Mary you nurtured from the shoreline, now lost in the horizon’s brilliant electricity.