the shores of a different land

the portugese call it saudade — a longing for something so indefinite as to be indefinable.

love affairs, miseries of life, the way things were, people already dead, those who left and the ocean that tossed them on the shores of a different land — all things born of the soul that can only be felt.

(anthony de sa)

i am walking on the shores (of a different land)

this photo is a lie.

this isn’t the shore i walked on that sunny day in spring, this is the shore that lives in my mind. the skies – bluer, the water – more turquoise, the birds – conjured up from another time, the edges – softened.

this is the shore that burns in my heart. the one we walked along that day, but not really. not ever. still, my lips are salty at the thought.

this is something that can only be felt.


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