Coogee Beach, Australia— I spend a lot of time on our hotel balcony because the view is spectacular. The weather is glorious and the waves are loud. It’s a fine place to write, with a computer on my lap.
I can see a series of little coves just beyond our beach, and each is separated by a rocky promontory. The sea crashes into these dividers in slow motion, and white clouds of spray just hang there, punctuating each rocky spit of land like a period at the end of a sentence.
Hmmm, take that further: the coast is a paragraph, the country a book, a tome, a history since life began. Its sentences are long and the ragged right runs into the sea. Each sentence is an enigma, ending with a question mark shrouded in mist. The one closest to me ends with an ellipsis of rocks…
I’m such a fan of your writing. When will you give me a feature on one of your travels? Even as little as 500 words, and a couple of pix.
Or, I could interview you and write it myself, but Rick’s right. You’re so poetic I’d much rather have it first-person in your own words.
travel safe,
Carolyn
Gorgeous. Poetic. Had to look up ‘ragged right’. That’s probably because all words in our language form straight lines on both sides. That’s incredibly beautiful prose, Bambi! You’re a bard – really!