Six strings; some sea; the unknown

I bought a new electric guitar. Was it a whim? No, it seemed like the right time, or at least a better time than there���s been for a decade or more. Somehow, as I feel its weight in my hands, the years slip back, fold in softly on themselves, liquify. Flickers from the past play out on the projection screen of memory: moments of friendship, of intensity, of solitude. Minutes becoming hours becoming the book of days. It was once my instrument; maybe it���ll be so again.

In the meantime, there���s the sea; there���s always the sea. I can offer you 40 seconds of it1, but you should repeat these 40 seconds as often as is necessary to fashion your own sea. A friend once said���or rather sang���that the sea is madness. But it doesn���t have to be.

Anyway, the guitar came today, a few days earlier than I���d anticipated. I wasn���t ready, but its arrival does feel like a turning point, or more likely a signpost to somewhere else. I���m not sure where that is yet, but the draw of the unknown is intoxicating, isn���t it? Sometimes we just have to walk the coastal path and see which sea it finds.

This sea is from Cambo Sands, Fife, 4 March 2023. Other seas are of course available.���