hic&nunc

This very day I was upset and hurt. From the beginning of this voyage nothing had asked me that much energy. My frustration was overwhelming, and back to my cabin, I felt lost in this tiny, too well defined, cubical-space-box-room; without echo nor spectators; and for only response my pathetic sorrow.
See, it was that kind of energy that won’t go away just because something bemused it. I felt the urge to move.
At the Connolly train station I found myself running to catch the first train. Jumping on the ‘Dart’, I decided only to jump off at the last stop. Unknown destination. A day off! Far from the ship (home for a month already) and its almost thousand souls, two thousand legs and as many arms; far from the wild castles, churches, and more attractions tours; far from the city dwellers hurried steps; and far from the hurly-burly.
While Dublin vanishes I start to feel better, as if my lungs are less clutter up. But still I am not going from a good heart and the load in my chest is still heavy.
An hour later the machine slows down. Greystones is outside. The train has lost all its people and only two of us remain. The old lady has kept her bag real close during the entire voyage; her knuckles and jaws are tense and white. I, on the other hand, am dozed by the rocking and arrive in that town as I would in a dream. I wander off the streets to shake out of my torpor, and find an old red brick house. It seems abandoned and feeling adventurous, I dare enter the yard and explore. The house is closed and around the nature has gone wild: surrounding me, creepers spread on the walls and daisies make their way between pavements. Back on Church Road I find a restaurant. On the wall, between menus and discounts, is hanging a picture of the pope. Standing silently he is looking down at us. The Wicklow Times in one hand and a sandwich in the other, I resume slowly my route toward the beach. The tormented gray sky and the stinging salted air make me feel freer. Nobody’s here, but the birds and I seat looking at the Irish Sea and its never-ending horizon, feeling the fresh grains of sand between my toes. Here, I think, breathe, cry, read, eat, and finally fell asleep on the black sand beach; the crows croaking around and the wind furiously howling.
When I wake up few hours later, grains of sand stuck on my cheek, still alone in this beautiful part of the world; nothing is forgotten and nothing is solved, but I am me, and from teeth to toes I feel here, alive and strong.