They’d said that her people came from the desert, that they were descendants of the ancient nomadic tribes who once roamed its red sandy dunes, but she knew differently. In her heart she knew that her bloodline was born from the ocean’s womb, a long line of women of the water. That dawn, as the morning star began to fade in the light of the rising sun, she walked through her garden on the rocky shore and down to the water’s edge. There, the placid cove waves greeted her with a lapping sound as it gently kissed her feet, shied away and then returned to kiss her once more…
The beginning of new story I think?
It had been so long since I’d written fiction. But for a few months now, words have been stirring within and turning themselves into stories. So I’ve been writing little bits about terracotta babies, a lonely girl restoring her late mother’s garden and now a crone woman standing at the edge of the sea. I don’t know if these stories will ever go anywhere. For now, I am content with the fact that there is joy in the writing and that’s all that matters.
I’m sure this latest bit of inspiration comes from the echoes of ocean wind still locked in my heart, residue of my trip to the sea. It seems to be breathing its untold tales to life inside me. So, I thought I’d share some pictures from my recent visit at the coast and send some healing ocean vibes your way for Friday inspiration.
Have a Happy Friday!