Once Upon a Beach
Posted by: Cléa in Blue Ink, General, tags: beach, cbmused, familiarity, locals, sand
The beach is scantily clad with locals. A sense of welcoming familiarity washes ashore with the unexpected wave that disturbs the plump seagull from the sunken footprint it has made for a bed.
It feels good to reclaim the beach.
The wooden spoon man takes his place near the shore and ingeniously uses the implement to apply suntan lotion to his back. The thin man in old leathery skin and dark Speedos makes his way to the crystal waters. The bald dark bouncer with his solid thighs and upper chest clumsily dries himself, always in a long-sleeve swim top to avoid more colour. Two European gents with white chest hair and gold necklaces stop and gesticulate their animated discussion, later calling it truce over green olives and red wine.
The look-at-me bloke of three yester years struts by, stopping and posing to show off a body now beefed up on too much gym and steroids.
The Northern European couple in their 50s arrive looking rather striking as usual. They strip down to a one piece, bikini bottoms for her and a thin g-string for him, in matching fluoro colours.
A perfectly sculpted bare chest emerges from beneath the turquoise waters, long enough for the water to glisten down its bareness then he goes under.
The midday shadow floats lazily across the stretch of powdery sand. It stops at its usual vantage point and disappears over a carefully laid out towel, notebook and pencil in hand.
Once… upon a beach.
