The Wayfarer (mnfaure) wrote,
The Wayfarer

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A watery toehold

mana_trini and I went out in the boat this afternoon, not too far, just to some islets between Petite and Grande Terre.

Every outing is a treat for the senses, but because it has been so long since I last snorkeled, I especially remarked the sensuality today. Innumerable  fish and coral formed a palette-in-flux of blues, pinks, greens, silvers, oranges, purples, reds, blacks, and yellows. The temperature of the  water was perfect, and the touch of the sun on the small of my back was as comforting as that of a lover. After feasting my eyes, I turned over on my back and floated, listening to the life below me, reminscent of rain on a skylight or a thousand tiny grains rolling around in a thousand delicate rainsticks. In the cocoon of the calm waters, I remembered being seven years old, sitting in a house in the middle of the west Texas badlands, with a book on my lap, a book that told a story about a mermaid. Though the story wasn't sad, I went to bed that night with tears on my cheeks and a ball in my throat because I felt it profoundly injust that I hadn't been born a mermaid. But the only fins I have are plastic and they provide me with an unsatisfactory toehold on the watery hold.

Back on the boat, we drank hot tea and ate coconut cookies, watching the graceful paille en queue cutting the air above us and the fierce splashing of fish on the hunt, chasing their prey out of the waves.

Now I'm pleasantly weary and would like to follow mana_trini's example and curl up with a book, but I have to go to bellydance class.
Tags: boat, life in mayotte, sealife

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