The water dances, it pulls at me, beckons me to come closer, to be inside it's liquid womb. A needy lover, it plays, tantalises, and stretches out it's white foamy fingers toward my wooden ship. I watch it, yearning to dive in, though hesitant of the rocks that lay below it's playful surface. So for now, I'll sing to it, as it's crashing, salty tongue licks the bow.
"I'm being followed by a moon shadow. Moonshadow, moon shadow".
Photographs by Cherry.
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