Beach

Translation Notice

This article is a work of fiction originally written in Italian. It has been automatically translated to English using an AI tool. The rhythmic and narrative qualities may differ from the original.

The sea spreads and retreats into ranks, rhythmic, placid. Like a beating heart, it pulses. Each breaking of its waves on the shore comes a little closer to my feet. The tide is rising. The moon watches me. Its light illuminates every grain of sand: it makes the night less night. If it weren't there I wouldn't have noticed the silhouettes of the seagulls in a row, on the rocks, a few steps from me. Are they sleeping, perhaps? Today is February 19th. Who knows what day it is for you. Who knows who you are. The air is clear, but cold. I struggle to hold the pen in my hand, his hand resting on my knee warms me. While writing these words I often turn to look at him. Today I can't take my eyes off him. We've been sitting here, alone, for hours. He made me laugh so much, you know? He always makes me laugh. I'm loving this moment more than I would have imagined. There's a surreal silence around us, so deep it gives me the impression of being able to hear even the most insignificant noises. Can you hear the scratching of the pen on paper? And this thud that interrupts my thoughts from time to time? Who knows if it's my heartbeat or his; we're so close we breathe in unison. I found this paper a few steps from where I'm sitting, it seemed like a nice idea to give it to you. My name is Shimizu. I hope this letter - enclosed in its glass casket - reaches you, whoever you are. I just wanted to share with you the warmth of a moment, of this moment, and wish you the best, so that for you too there may be a thousand like this. A hug.

Photo: @chiara_smash