Coast

We don’t know what counts or doesn’t count out here.

 

We’re not pulled in any particular direction. We’re open to all of them. To anything that could happen.

 

It’s what doesn’t happen at the coast that matters. No – it’s what unhappens.

 

We’re not who we were. Live out here long enough and you’ll forget your name.

 

Nothing happens here, and nothing needs to happen. And that’s what’s happening, or rather unhappening …

 

Our leave-us-in-peace to the world. Our call to be left alone.

 

We want to be unnoticed by the world. To reflect. To contemplate. To turn things over in our heads.

 

This is a brink. A threshold. Where something might or might not happen. Where nothing has to happen, right?