There is something about the sea. Love it, hate it, indifferent to it, like breath is to our body, the sea is to earth: sea and breath, both changing with the moods and movements of their more solid hosts. And without them, both systems would perish.
Today the sea’s surface is like a sheath of cellophane with a slightly crumpled texture. A family of 3 stand on the pebbles near the edge watching a hard core swimmer quite a way out, his bubble-pack of clothes bobbing playfully behind him.
Goat Ledge Cafe has a tropical scene on its back wall for a jolly holiday ambience. A potted plant that’s lost its lustre snuggles up to the painting like it’s trying to grab a little glamour from the superior palm tree with its swanky shadow and bright blue sea.
I go along Bottle Alley as I generally do in favour of walking on street level. I admit a fondness for it, faded as it is, despite its recent facelift. I like peeking between the gaps in the cement support columns. You never know what you might see! No sweet scent of weed today, just a man gazing out to sea with a dreamy look on his face. I automatically warm to him just because he is captivated, or seems to be, by the view. I steal a photo as I pass and scurry on in case he senses me behind him.
Further on and the benches in one of the half rotundas, usually occupied by a loud trio of drinkers, are empty. Imagine sitting there gazing and gazing! Dreams invite vision without which all would be lost. “To see a world in a grain of sand..” Blake knew the value of vision.
The sight of this empty bench looking out to sea gladdens me! I seat my dreams on it. ( with apologies to Yeats!)
I glance back. The man on the wall dreams on..
