The Salt in the Air
The sea does not care for our presence. It moves with a rhythm that predates our arrival and will continue long after we have turned to dust. We stand at the edge, watching the water pull back, a slow retreat that feels like a question. There is a weight to the air near the coast, a heaviness that settles in the lungs, tasting of salt and old storms. We go there to find something we have misplaced, perhaps a version of ourselves that existed before the noise of the world became too loud. We wait for the wind to clear the space between our thoughts. We wait for the horizon to offer a sign, but it remains flat, indifferent, and vast. It is a quiet kind of loneliness, the kind that does not hurt, but simply reminds you that you are here, breathing, for a very short time. What remains when the tide finally pulls away?
José J. Rivera-Negrón has captured this stillness in his photograph titled PR Beach Moment. It is a reminder that even in the heat of the tropics, there is a silence worth listening to. Does the water speak to you as it does to me?
