Ten ships float gently alongside the island as the tide calmly leaves the shore; some are passing us by, destined for far-off ports; some are here to rest but most are waiting for work with their crews bored and their cargo decks serving only as vast empty spaces used for dark, dank, make-shift running tracks and football pitches until the next order comes. Dwarfed alongside them sit yachts, bobbing up and down with the flow of the ocean as it laps at their sides.
Those ten ships become nine as the tenth disappears behind the mammoth cliff which dominates the skyline a click to my north-east. Towering above the ocean, for me, it represents the edge of my blinkered view, reminding me of my own limits. One cannot see what is hidden from one's eyes, adventure waits beyond the horizon.
The ships become ten once more as another emerges from the horizontal haze which marks the edge of my known space, a car ferry by the looks of its shape and bright-white colouring.
My destiny; like the tide's, lays far beyond what I can see. A vast and endless current of oceans command not only the entire world but my life especially. As I look towards what I cannot see I get a feeling of isolation, but also (and more importantly) hope and how my own minute existence may one day change what people see from this very spot.
The beach is empty now, the sun has taken shelter behind the massive cliffs above me and the heat left imprisoned in the sand isn't enough to keep the tourists here. I will mount my bicycle now and ride home with a thought on my mind:
If people leave when the sun goes down how will anyone appreciate the eerie silence of the ocean? If my own sunshine fails to glow will people forget about the beauty of my simplicity, too?
The simple things are what make us feel alive, without them we have no hope of surviving in true happiness.
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