Watching the sea at dusk

The day can have its various demands, disappointments and inconveniences. But as the day ends, the sea carries on as if nothing much important has happened. Which, from its point of view, is perfectly true.

As the light fades, the water changes colour - silver becomes pewter, blue turns to bruised purple, and the horizon begins losing its distinction between what is water and what is sky. The waves keep arriving, each apparently convinced it has something new to say - only to collapse into the same old argument with the shore.

Watching this repetitive business is oddly liberating. Nothing needs answering, correcting, improving. One is relieved of the obligation to be interesting, productive or even especially happy. The mind gradually adjourns.


Occasionally, a distant boat appears, its solitary light suggesting another life, another destination, neither requiring one's participation.

The first stars emerge. The breeze cools. Somewhere, you see civilisation switching on its lights and resuming its negotiations. For a little longer, however, you can remain seated, watching the darkness quietly inherit the sea, wanting absolutely nothing else.