Sea air influence

The sea tide rolling in is a deep, dark blue--the same as the rims lining the inside of my eyes. Above, the sky mirroring my own, I see the center of my iris. If you would fly straight up thousands of miles and look down, it would be as if you were looking right through me.

I stepped out onto the sand--cool, soft, white dry. A few steps more and I met the hard, wet, putty that pains the arches like the wounds of an old lover.

Been reading Greene's Heart of the Matter and feel the sweet voice of him in the text...finding friendship, then love which always turns to pity. It's a cold, heartless pattern. As I pass the toule covered cottages of the newly wed couples I want to cry out to them; to tell them what is in store. Ah, but they are different. Their love will last forever. Is it love or duty? I quote Greene, "If you are happy darling, I am happy."

I follow the trace of a stranger's prints along the beach, measuring mine in his. It is quite a bit longer, slender with an elvish big toe--pointy at the tip.
His stride is smaller than mine--then I look to my right and find another set of tracks--a female. Her foot, again a bit larger but more petite than his. the stride matches his.
I follow in her footsteps until we reach the well-manacured grass of the estate property. I feel my mind switch from the turbulent, unpredicitible sand and sea to the well-kept grass, the order of the trimmed bushes and putting greens.