The warm grip of the Spanish heat loosens with each whistle of the wind, releasing me from its luxurious caress momentarily – bringing me back to my surroundings as though a valium induced haze had lifted. I push back onto my arms, let my hair tickle my back and kick out my legs. The fishermen … More Fishing, for what?
The wind tickles my face. The waves seem to wash right through me, before colliding with the harbour rocks below. Thoughts swirl in circular motion, peppered with the pulse of my mantra which drives the moment deeper. My dangling feet are numb, only the pressure from the weight of my legs over the smooth edge … More Meditation