My toes sunk into the cool sand. The aroma of sea salt was
overwhelming but I was a native; I was used to it. Voices of tourists invaded
my ears. The sky was dark, only lit by the few innocent stars and the radiant
full moon. This is where I came to forget.
I was alone, in the eyes of everyone else, but there was
more than that. Walls surrounded my brain that kept everyone out, except for
the few I chose to let in. My eyes fell shut as I tried to let go of every
emotion I felt. Every love I’d ever felt, every tear that had ever fallen,
everything that had ever made me sad. But they refused to leave. My emotions,
my memories (the good and the bad) clung to my heart and my brain, and they were
here to stay.
I’d been on this sand so many times before; I felt a
connection, as if the sand knew who I was, where I was from, and everything
else about me. The sand knew me and it knew brief stories of the many trespassers
that marched on it.
The waves crashed on the shore like they were trying to
escape the wrath of the sea; I tried to focus on them. Just like I felt, the
waves were constantly under attack of an unknown force, as they raced to the
shore for safely.
The wind blew my hair across my face, mixing the scent of
the salty water with strawberry shampoo. I found it interesting that two things
that were so different could come together and still seem like they belonged.
I longed someone to come sit with me. The passing strangers
each had a story to tell, and I wanted to hear them all. But mostly, I wanted
to tell my own story. I just had no one to tell it to.
The part of this post that stands out most prominently is the narrator’s use of introspection contrasted with poignant sensory perceptions. This effect serves to bring a reader into a deeply contemplative state while simultaneously creating a clear, tactile sense of place. The overarching introspection is made clear from the content of the text (my emotions, my memories, walls surrounded my brain) as well as through the speaker's consistent use of personal pronouns (I, my). The nature of the thoughts brings an aura of longing to the text. The speaker reflects on feelings of isolation (I had no one to tell it to) and struggle which are paralleled by the scene of a vast ocean (waves escaping the wrath of the sea). The mentality of the subject, a native, is fittingly contrasted with brief allusions to tourists. The native is concerned with thoughts regarding emotions and the soul, while the standard image of a tourist entails superficiality, souvenirs, and tacky neon clothing. This contrast serves to bring more focus on the cerebral content of the lone narrator.
ReplyDeleteThe imagery that the writer employs is wonderfully diverse. In the first paragraph alone, four out of the five human senses are evoked (sight- stars and full moon, smell- aroma of salt, touch- cool toes in the sand, and hearing- noise of tourists invading…). The gamut of sensory perceptions creates a clear, holistic, sense of the beach on which he/she is sitting. The images roll in through similes and metaphors, enhancing the overall precision of the scene created.
As far as structure goes, the choice of prose caught this critic somewhat off guard. Often times, one sees similar literary devices and introspective themes in pieces of poetry (which, in my opinion, can create monotony). As an editor, I would be thankful that this text was not approached in so cliché a way as a poem. The use of prose allows for more of a straightforward view on complicated topics like isolation. I believe the picture is one of the Castillo de San Marcos in St. Augustine, which is situated on the ocean, and is therefore concurrent with the beach scene conjured in the text. The graphic is also connected to the writing in that it is, in fact, a fortress- as the title suggests.