Souvenir From The Black Sea

      Eyes tight shut, my keen senses wide awake, greedy as they can be, my body heavy, catatonic, but serene. I'm listening to the vigorous waves pounding on the shore: rolling, crashing, swashing. I surrender my whole being to their majestic display of mightiness. Summoning all my senses, I breathe in the salty scent they leave behind: Sensual Mindfulness. It can't get more synesthetic. My whole being is content, peaceful. This must be happiness, and I would like to hope this is what eternity looks like. 

A middle-aged man of colour interrupts my eternity dreaming, trying to sell me boiled corn and an opulent shell necklace. "Right from the Black Sea, my Lady, my daughter just picked them up yesterday," he says with a grin. Annoyed by the sudden awareness of my surroundings, I take a moment to tame my irritation, breathe deeply, then suddenly realize: "Eureka, I have to have a corn on the cob now, and I need to hang that necklace on my neck. If I need that ugly necklace to be able to breathe the salty scent of the Black Sea forever, I'll wear it every day for the rest of my life." 

While I'm chewing on my corn on the cob and gazing at the joyful children hopping in the foamy waves, I hear a faint roar behind me... I'm shaking my head, that can't be right, it must be the guy with the monkey who has been sipping a beer, and now she roars like a lion. I turn my head to take a look at the drunk monkey and, to my surprise, I see a real lion cub. No bigger than a two-month-old puppy, he's dragging his big exhausted paws, as if he's been crossing the Sahara. "Souvenir from the Black Sea with Simba the Lion!" cries the young gypsy boy in a loud voice, pulling his exhausted feline firmly by a shiny leash. 

Desolated by the unfortunate scene, I lay flat on the sand, close my eyes, grab my seashell necklace and breath in the salty scent of the mighty waves. Again and again: I become one with the sea, with its majesty.