en dk
The wind so strong it whips up a sandstorm. Clouds of beige hovering above the ground, tiny grains mixing with the air, moving together, in unison. Running, running fast, towards the sea. Calves stinging with the beating of the sand, red, red raw. Feet hit the wet sand, leaving white circles, forcing the water out. And then, just then, toes hit the water. cold. cold. cold! Still running, water getting higher, speckles splashing onto the face, the nose... the lips. Tongue out - Lick. salt! Arms spread wide catching the water in the palm of a hand. And then stop - stop running. Stop and look. Stop and breathe.