After waiting for what felt like an eternity, yesterday evening, along with torrential rain, arrived the softest wave in the sea, just enough to power a surfboard (or maybe not even that). We thundered out like children, arms splashing, legs kicking, to sit in a gently undulating, receding tide beneath a blue-grey meadow of cloud, board-tips pointing skyward like errant compass needles.
At the farthest curve of the shore, a city skyscape etched itself charcoal grey against a soft rose pink sunset, and I wish you could have been there to witness a seal bobbing closely by, curious, unafraid, following some lads on paddle boards.
I wanted to take a photograph of the two of us caught in this moment as the impact of each raindrop rippled and splashed its individual expression, a final dance before becoming the whole. Instead, I write words to remember that these are the moments I choose to weave into this world – this is my artistic life made manifest.