My feet are stuck in the sand. The silouhettes are there already, far out, sinking and fighting the salty water, sometimes on the board, sometimes under. Jesper stands on his for a moment, than disappears in the scum again.
The sea is roaring, it's the time of sound, again. I close my eyes and see us flashing on the road, like millions of teleported photocopies of ourselves, flappering on the asphalt at the rythm of Billy Joel. The coulds are heavy, but they're gonna disappear. The sounds coming from the forest in Pauanui are not sounds. They're a symphony, and I'm stuck there, wondering whether all the green of the trees will start moving, following the insect's beat.
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