Fig #2

dear fig,

this summer, you missed the salty earth; wrapping themselves tight, and crashing violently into waves. do you remember the days, prickly with heat. we would trudge the soles of our feet into ochre powdery grains, and watch as they sinked themselves deeper. our backs burnt and glistening; from sunlight. pearls of sweat, appearing on flesh, dancing amongst the reflection of day’s light.

we would imagine the moist, innocent seaside sandbanks as quicksand. ‘we’re sinking! our feet’s disappearing!’ we’d squeal in excitement, a partial half-hearted fear, in suspense that they were actually ‘sinking’. In an heroic attempt escape, you yanked your ankle with great force and proclaimed ‘there! i’ve escaped! hurry, let’s go back before it gets us again’. we’d stay ankle-deep just long enough to watch the bubbling water fill the depressions; where our feet were buried. often, tangled weeds and the odd pebble latched unto spaces between our toes. this did not bother us too much, did it? perhaps we were caught too much in awe, at the magic trick the ocean has been performing with our footprints. it’s disappearance, and reappearance; within split seconds and limited action.

i remember our days with fondness, and this one in particular; and the others that followed closely, shortly, and further into distant days. i would like to write to you more often (even if they might not reach you/you might not read them nor/or reply) too often lately, i have become distracted with everything that is happening inside and outside of me. my breath, cannot be silenced or still. i recall what was once good, even and especially; in our momentary childishness.

all my love,



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