Wandering without any particular goal, the woman found herself near the old abandoned lighthouse that stood upon the promontory, overlooking the rocky shoals. It was now an unmanned electronic wonder in an ancient building. The sea boiled below and she watched as single waves would sometimes separate from the rest and break ithemselves against the rocks.
As she stood on the promontory, she remembered days now long gone and a man who she’d once loved, born in the city, he longed for the sea. He’d studied architecture but then, in an existentialist crisis, he joined the Merchant Marines and she never saw him again. She’d nearly forgotten him.
As the sun began to set and the last tremulous light filled the sky, she turned to make her way back down the path towards the village. There, people lived their traditions and customs as though they were a badge of honour. Reflecting, she wondered what holds some people rooted to one place. Why do some people run away from their birthplaces while others never even go to the next town?
The light from the lighthouse suddenly slashed through the night. Warning wanderers of the dangers of coming too close to its light. A warning and a danger at the same time?
beams of light shine through the night
an old lighthouse
© G.s.k. ‘15