I've always had a soft spot for the beach.
The strong, powerful wind - invisible yet so present - the crazy whipping action of your hair against your skin, fabrics flying, your scarf moving.
The numerous sand particles - solid, hard, black and yellow - yet pours out in singular granules as you sieve them through your fingers, time and time again, and you pick at your eye as it hits into them by mistake.
The vast ocean - so loud and majestic - tastes like a pack of salt as you accidentally open your mouth with glee, heap full of salt entering your system, and you suppress your laughter with a wide grin, and think about how much shampoo you will need to get your hair back on track.
I miss the beach. Its one of those things that I've taken for granted, yet it has never failed to enlighten my spirits. Every visit makes me feel like a kid again, and Mika is always allowed to walk out alone into the horizon. Casting glances over his tiny shoulders for signs of his parents. Such a wonderful boy.
This is his 2nd photo of him walking alone in an empty stretch of sand. Yellow, barren. A hint of anxiety as the waves crash in and scare him silly. I introduced him to seashells this time. And the ATV.
I somehow cannot be bothered to talk about my Eid celebration. This photo itself stamped more meaning and memory than the gluttony and controlled emotion I had to suffer during Eid.
You are always an outsider no matter what color shirt you wear.
A stranger, in a strange land, his t-shirt read.
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