“What do you see when you see the horizon?” I asked. The wind felt stale and grey. It threw droplets that have travelled long, maybe a hundred miles, to brush my face. “I see the aged water. All the floating ships it must’ve seen, some even swallowed. It scares the fuck out of me, the spiralling abyss. I imagine the sky must be really different at the horizon. I feel like it treats the sea differently – Showers it with stars, draws fluttering curtains of clouds to drown the sunlight, even shows its naked thunder. I feel like the sky respects the sea’s depth, never minding its own height. I think it understands the sea’s humility and tolerance towards everything that touches it.” The wind was still grey, but the sand had changed its shape. I wish I could sit in his mind and understand, but listening would work for now, atleast till the sun hides away. There would be lesser people here, and maybe that would help the filters in my head.

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