Smooth Textures

Smooth textures forgotten before felt, yet turning into feelings inside the skin;

I am new and tan and happy, couldn’t expect to be whole, as the spirit longs for the grains of sand laid on the shore, sinking in my feet.

The body is entertained, burnt, shaken in the natural form, naked despite the sun, warm before the water, as unspeakable words flatten my existence, because nothing is greater, nothing is more powerful than the felling of belonging.

The quiet and yet unappreciated clash of the waves, I rather sit and touch the earth than float in the water, cold and crushing.

The people and their bodies, their bozoms and their striking faces and expressions, protecting their eyes with sunglasses.

I am no one, just a tourist and this is the best part.