Aaah, this feels nice. The sun is hot, but the breeze makes it all right. I squint at the sunshine, and feel the warm sand under me, soft and inviting as I lie there, supine. I close my eyes and feel the breeze on my face, and everything just seems to melt away, the beach, the sun, even time itself.
This is the life, I think to myself. This is perfect, this is right.
I wake up with a start. I’ve dozed off, I think. I look around; the sun is past its peak in the sky, evening is coming fast. The sand is still warm, and soft, but it doesn’t feel right anymore. What happened?
There used to be… water here, didn’t it? I was right there, on the blue, pushing forward, flying through the waves. The sea parted in front of me, and I let its cold arms caress my body. I bathed in the spray and I kissed its wet, blue lips. Every day felt new in the arms of the sea, every salty kiss felt like being born anew.
How did I end up here, lying useless on the sand? Where did the water go? How did I lose the sea?
But the sand still feels warm, and soft, and inviting. The sun isn’t as hot now, and the breeze has let up. This feels comfortable, and… homely.
And it feels boring, and dead, and I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I’m no good for anything, lying here like this; I’m just a wreck with nothing to do, no meaning and no purpose. How did I lose my way? How did I lose the sea?
But this is restful, and it’s calm, and I like it. It’s just me and my thoughts, and it doesn’t matter if I’m just lying here, doing nothing, because the sand is warm and soft and inviting, and the sun is hot, and the breeze makes it all right.
I’m just resting.
I’m just shipwrecked.