There is a walk here that runs along the corniche, skirting the shore for some distance and then ending in a hilly, grassed park overlooking the open sea. Sometimes of an early night we drive down after dinner and it is a pleasant thing to take a solitary walk on the long, winding pavement. Trotting against the light breeze from the whizzing cars speeding along on the smooth grey roads, the rising then fading sounds of the passing traffic on one side melts into the soft hum of the waves from the other. The orange puddles of light from the streetlamps above light up the foamy waves breaking gently against the piled up concrete dolosse blocks and I walk on, skipping across the cracks on the pavement. Then slowing down and looking out to the sea beyond, one becomes conscious of how distinctly different the bright world rushing behind you feels against the grand motion of the dark sea; dotted with a few boats a little way off and then after a short span, the dim waters deepening into an inky darkness before spreading into an almost terrifying vastness. Sauntering on, you look up and feel another vastness in the quiet blinking of the stars amid the grey clouds, their dark outlines brightened by the shine of the moon; and then on a bench near the parapet, I sit and listen and smile as the waves flow in, feeling a calming gladness in this meeting of the old sea with the old cliff.
A shout of delight behind me makes me look as the kids draw large loopy loops on bicycles in the park and one feels another kind of joy in cheering on this childish sweetness at a newly learnt skill. Alhumdulillah, for a beautiful world.