The feeling has almost ebbed away, now, having returned to my car --- at the beach at Luskentyre. At first, I enjoyed sitting on the sand banks, looking across the sound, to the rocky hills on the other side. Yellow - grey purple blue - grey sky/clouds: Rothko.
Then I walked up the beach towards the sunset: clouds, sun, beach, waves, sea, mountains, grass - at first I recognised intellectually - aesthetically, that this was something extraordinary. A special moment.
And then, it just got more and more beautiful. Or, I opened myself up to more and more; emotionally it was starting to overwhelm me.
And then - - - - it was too much. It started to become almost painful. So beautiful, it was painful. I shouted "too much". Too much to be alone with. I felt close to tears; a bit hysterical - and I needed to escape ---
I ran, up and over the dunes, behind grass, in a little valley behind the dunes, running parallel to the beach - - - - I couldn't look anymore. And I walked back hidden from the beach, from the sea. Although I could hear the waves. That was ok - - - - - I needed that neutral space. Still near, but not in it, as I walked back to the car. Time and space to dwell - almost trying to imprint the moment. But I dared not look again - It was over, and I was afraid going back would lessen my experience . . .
And I needed to be alone. It could not have been any other way ---
- - unless I was in love at that moment --- ? ?
--- To make love?
I have not looked at these photographs until now - they were taken in March 2010... this is taken from my diary. It feels a little corny now, the ending. But I couldn't think of any other correspondence. At the time I was trying to find the western edge - and I made it to the Outer Hebrides. They're islands off the far NW coast of Scotland, for my American friends, that barely feel like they should be afloat.
See, I told you Lisa Emily...
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