From the island, worlds look different. Clouds pass by in many different shapes at a higher pace. You’ll walk along the shore eternally. Because the shore is circling. Islanders, therefore, are walkers. And walkers often are dreamers.
Every day, the island is on the outlook. Looking over the sea. Because the sea for her is infinite. Every day, she finds what the sea will bring. Would there be any messages lost in bottles? Or goods from someone far away? Every day she finds a reason to dream away.
Not everyone knows how islands arise. Not everyone perceives the talks between the land and the sea. But the island has her own story. She knows how it was written. A floating raft that escaped the mainland. But every day it seems long ago. That’s why sometimes, she has to make an effort to remember. She doesn’t remember everything. Only pain. The image and the sounds distort with time. That’s one thing for sure. She rarely thinks about it anyway. Every day asks for her attention. The sea must be heard. If the sea is not heard, he will be fierce. He outrages and throws its waves with violence upon the island’s shore. The island does not want to be wiped away. Therefore she hears the sea with loyalty and care. Wave after wave. The sea tells her urgently of events and happenings occurring on the mainland. Every wave of the sea with its own voice. Throughout time, she began recognizing waves by their voices. The sea is what she understands. But the wind, that often unpredictable wind, stays inconceivable for her.
On islands, it is windy. More often than not. The wind sands, the wind gusts. The wind screams and the wind howls. The wind whistles when she resists being found but is quietwhen she seeks fresh breath. It is the wind that troubles her existence with the frequency of waves. She does not grasp where the wind originates or where it wants to be. It just calls and nothing else. When trying to comprehend, she gets confused. Wind causes the dust to blow up from things unseen. The wind overturns. The wind grabs. The wind means disquiet. The wind is for children, for them, to run and play.
But if she would conceive, the teachings of the wind, the wind would go to whisper. The wind would ask her for bringing forward her story to the mainland.
Every day, the island is on the outlook. Looking over the sea. Because the sea for her is infinite. Every day, she finds what the sea will bring. Would there be any messages lost in bottles? Or goods from someone far away? Every day she finds a reason to dream away.
Not everyone knows how islands arise. Not everyone perceives the talks between the land and the sea. But the island has her own story. She knows how it was written. A floating raft that escaped the mainland. But every day it seems long ago. That’s why sometimes, she has to make an effort to remember. She doesn’t remember everything. Only pain. The image and the sounds distort with time. That’s one thing for sure. She rarely thinks about it anyway. Every day asks for her attention. The sea must be heard. If the sea is not heard, he will be fierce. He outrages and throws its waves with violence upon the island’s shore. The island does not want to be wiped away. Therefore she hears the sea with loyalty and care. Wave after wave. The sea tells her urgently of events and happenings occurring on the mainland. Every wave of the sea with its own voice. Throughout time, she began recognizing waves by their voices. The sea is what she understands. But the wind, that often unpredictable wind, stays inconceivable for her.
On islands, it is windy. More often than not. The wind sands, the wind gusts. The wind screams and the wind howls. The wind whistles when she resists being found but is quietwhen she seeks fresh breath. It is the wind that troubles her existence with the frequency of waves. She does not grasp where the wind originates or where it wants to be. It just calls and nothing else. When trying to comprehend, she gets confused. Wind causes the dust to blow up from things unseen. The wind overturns. The wind grabs. The wind means disquiet. The wind is for children, for them, to run and play.
But if she would conceive, the teachings of the wind, the wind would go to whisper. The wind would ask her for bringing forward her story to the mainland.
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