Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS WRITER.
Describe the beach. I left my shoes under that tree that is no longer there. I left that tree behind a long time ago and walked off barefoot, never looked back and now, looking out this window, looking back, the shore is so far away. The window is round and a gull soars past and I can’t see which way is back because all around me is sea, sea, sea. So tranquil.
Describe the beach, describe the beach.
I waited.
The sun slanted into the kitchen, it was late afternoon and that old radio was on, before you swiped it off the shelf just like that, you said ‘Enough of those voices, that infernal music, why can’t we all just be QUIET?’
Describe the beach describe the beach describe the beach.
By the time we got there our footprints were long gone and the sand was strewn with starfish. There must have been hundreds of them, all beached, all grey. Perhaps in the water, before, they were luminous, but now they were such a dull grey, like the sand, the sky, all such a dull grey, the only light emanating from behind the waves, the Indian ocean glowing jade green under winter’s white foam. Occasionally one of their legs moved, twitched a last flick of life before stillness, the absenting of life, the last star going out before everything turns to dust.
Describe the beach. Long, quiet, ten minutes end to end. One step before the next, on the liminal shore.