Breathe the sea after so long

Words
465
Reading
3 min
Listen
Play
4M

alt



I live on an island, and yes, I know what you are thinking: How can someone who lives in Cuba be far from the sea? Well, that's how it is because my city is in the center, with no coasts nearby, no waves, no smell of salt that for many is part of the daily landscape. For me, it is a luxury that I only enjoy from time to time, and this weekend, thanks to a conference, the sea and I reunited.


alt


It was only Saturday and Sunday, a couple of days, but they were enough to remind me what it really means to inhabit this island, with my feet in the sand and my chest full of breeze.


alt


On Saturday I arrived at the hotel near the boardwalk, and before settling in, I was already heading down to the shore. I couldn't help it. I took off my shoes and walked on the wet sand, feeling every grain under my soles. That texture, rough and soft at the same time, firm and shifting... so different from the gray asphalt of my city. And the sound: that constant, hypnotic crashing.


alt


On Sunday I woke up early and sat on a flat rock, looking at the horizon, and took a deep breath. Inhaling the sea is inhaling memory, salt air, dreamed journeys, childhoods on another beach that I no longer visit often. It is a smell that grabs you from within, that cleanses you of the worries accumulated from so much work and routine.


alt


Feeling the humid wind on my face, seeing how the blue changes from light sky blue to deep indigo as the clouds pass by, was as if something inside me was unblocked. It seems to me as if I had been living on pause, and suddenly the sea pressed play on my heart.


alt


And the most beautiful thing was being able to share that blue with other people who were also at the conference, with colleagues from other provinces, all as grateful as I was. People from the center, or from the dry east who miss the coast, and we sat together on the sand on Sunday afternoon, without rushing, watching the sun say goodbye among pink clouds.


alt


This weekend I didn't go to a conference; I went to remember that breathing is more than filling your lungs. It is reuniting with what makes us feel alive.

🌊


🌊

alt

🌊 π‘»π’‰π’‚π’π’Œπ’” 𝒇𝒐𝒓 π’“π’†π’‚π’…π’Šπ’π’ˆ! 🌊
𝑰𝒇 π’šπ’π’– 𝒅𝒐𝒏’𝒕 π’Œπ’π’π’˜ π’Žπ’† π’šπ’†π’•, π‘°β€™π’Ž 𝒂 π‘ͺ𝒖𝒃𝒂𝒏 π’π’†π’–π’“π’π’π’π’ˆπ’Šπ’”π’• 𝒂𝒏𝒅 π’˜π’“π’Šπ’•π’†π’“, 𝒂 π’Žπ’π’•π’‰π’†π’“, 𝒂 π’˜π’π’Žπ’‚π’, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂 π’…π’“π’†π’‚π’Žπ’†π’“ π’˜π’‰π’β€™π’” 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 π’Šπ’ π‘―π’Šπ’—π’† 𝒂 π’ƒπ’†π’‚π’–π’•π’Šπ’‡π’–π’ 𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒂𝒓.
𝑨𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 π’Šπ’Žπ’‚π’ˆπ’†π’” 𝒂𝒓𝒆 π’Žπ’š π’π’“π’Šπ’ˆπ’Šπ’π’‚π’ π’„π’“π’†π’‚π’•π’Šπ’π’π’”, 100% π’‰π’–π’Žπ’‚π’-π’Žπ’‚π’…π’† (𝒏𝒐 𝑨𝑰).
𝑩𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒓 π’…π’†π’”π’Šπ’ˆπ’π’†π’… π’ƒπ’š π‘³π’–π’Žπ’Šπ’Š.
𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒅 π’•π’‰π’Šπ’” 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕? 𝑼𝒑𝒗𝒐𝒕𝒆, π’„π’π’Žπ’Žπ’†π’π’•, 𝒐𝒓 π’“π’†π’ƒπ’π’π’ˆ 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 π’˜π’Šπ’π’ˆπ’” 𝒐𝒇 π’„π’“π’†π’‚π’•π’Šπ’—π’Šπ’•π’š! πŸ’™

Breathe the sea after so long | Ecency