Hallo sweet, ball busting heat. After the long winter months froze my memory banks I forgot that it was possible to lounge outside, produce vitamin D and display my SUP prowess during daylight. Spring causes a tepid trickle, a defrosting of the outer grey matter, until the real heat burns out the permafrost.
WHAM, you’re back. BOOM, in the heart of summer. The trade winds start acting a bit more like real trade winds, none of that miff southerly spring influence fuzzing around. Mosquitoes sprout from whatever infernal hell they come from, the ocean turns crystal clear and the migratory swallows start raising their youth.
As for me? You’ll find me there by the waters edge, writing poems to the deceased, doing scratch cards for the unfortunate. You see, like summer, I wanna shine.
The renaissance man, well equipped, culturally aware and unstoppable in a variety of equally challenging scenarios. Old flatmates are a cherished bunch.
Icy, falling water knocks the dust right out of you, washing away all the decrepit yawns stuck in your lungs and making you smile like a baboon with a bunch of bananas.
Grab things that take you places. A fishing rod, steering wheel, SUP, canoe, surfboard, bodyboard, bike, bicycle etc.
Nature is a harsh mistress, but there is no denying her crafty hand. For a moment we can sleep in her ever-changing scenes.
Beneath the surface, there is a place the storms of life don’t reach.
I’m like a moth to a light with lonely roads. A highly calibrated adventure misfit open to seduction wherever the road goes.
As sand on the dunes, mates, we will change with the winds of life, with the flow of the lunar tides. He who is on the crest will be far from it another day.
Talent is for the lazy.