Crickets gave the rhythm to our music. Sea salt gave the smell to our hair.
We watched as our salty footprints disappeared on the hot limestone.
We watched the sea rise and fall. We watched the moon wax and wane, and stars emerge in the black sky.
Beach towels became our cloaks.
We ran barefoot on the limestone pavements.
Pine branches became arrows and swords.
We caught crabs with our hands.
We were thin but tough, fast and nimble, with golden hair and tanned skin.
We dived under the ships and brought sand from the bottom of the sea.
We laughed out loud until we couldn’t swim anymore, sore feet and shrivelled fingers meant we had swum enough for now.
When we were children.
But my favourite part was closing my eyes and feeling the sun’s warm rays on my cold, salty skin.
I watched the play of sunlight and shadows on pine branches through closed eyes, inhaling as deeply as possible and filling my lungs with salt, pine, and resin.
To dive with my eyes closed, and open them when I’m already halfway to the bottom of the sea. When I open my eyes like that, after the blackness I am washed over by the most beautiful explosion of bright colours
and life.