Essay written by Lynn Jenner. Thinking about waves. Knowing when to leave. Page 105
Our sea is made up of certain blues. Sometimes, just before the weather changes, our sea is so pale it fades into the sky. At these times, the sea is almost silent. Sometimes our sea is bluer than a cornflower. These blues are inside us, enshrined beyond anything conscious, alongside the smell of hot sand and the sound of waves arriving from thousands of miles away.
I was reading this last night and still thinking about the opening sentences this morning. What a beautiful description.