He sits at the end of the world.

The Sun approaches the horizon and the strange scenery amplifies the feeling of being alone, yet connected with all.

He sinks into it.

The gulls dance in the wind, effortlessly suspended in the air. He glides with them, crossing the glowing sky. They teach him to scream, and, after a moment of hesitation, he screams with them.

He’s free.

He’s been having a deep conversation with himself throughout the day. His thoughts traced his feet, unfolding new landscapes of the mind, as the scenery kept changing. But now, at the end of the world, there is nothing left to say. The path worn out his thoughts, leaving space for something unthinkable to emerge from within. And this unthinkable something sits wit him now, in this very moment.

The Sun touches the horizon.

The gulls scream, and the world vibrates with something familiar.

He’s been in this moment before, yet lost the memory of it. And as a lone gull passes right next to his head, he understands.

I mean, really understands.

The tears break, something that hasn’t happened for a long time. He inhales deeply, and starts to sing.

The gulls come closer, and while they don’t understand the words, they know precisely what he is singing of.

Sailor ⛵️Juggler ☀️ Shapeshifting Raccoon 🦝 Documenting experiments at https://thewhitelog.com