I have arrived on the beach at Cherating again for a few days.
I'm on the little beach cove underneath the beach villa belonging to the prince of Pahang. The winds and the tides have kept house well and have swept debris far up the beach, but didn't have the strength left to take remove the giant rocks.
The cove is bordered on both sides by high ragged rocks that at first seem to guard the cove or remain as observers of the wind surfers that glide before them. Now, they resemble the knees of giants resting on a cushion of sand. It is tempting to climb onto their lap.
On the left, the giant rocks on the beach have created little white swirls of pool, that have taken a break from dancing on the cliffs. As rays of light break through the clouds, the waves glimmer like angry liquid glass, solid enough to crack and burst into shards.
At mid-morning, the surfers have woken up and intrude on the solitude of the cove. I sit and wonder a silly question: why do right-handed surfers strap the boards to their left leg instead of their right? They ride the waves like golden buddhas rushing impatiently toward an evasive nirvana.
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Tuesday December 28
Until 1 January 2023
I have arrived on the beach at Cherating again for a few days.
I'm on the little beach cove underneath the beach villa belonging to the prince of Pahang. The winds and the tides have kept house well and have swept debris far up the beach, but didn't have the strength left to take remove the giant rocks.
The cove is bordered on both sides by high ragged rocks that at first seem to guard the cove or remain as observers of the wind surfers that glide before them. Now, they resemble the knees of giants resting on a cushion of sand. It is tempting to climb onto their lap.
On the left, the giant rocks on the beach have created little white swirls of pool, that have taken a break from dancing on the cliffs. As rays of light break through the clouds, the waves glimmer like angry liquid glass, solid enough to crack and burst into shards.
At mid-morning, the surfers have woken up and intrude on the solitude of the cove. I sit and wonder a silly question: why do right-handed surfers strap the boards to their left leg instead of their right? They ride the waves like golden buddhas rushing impatiently toward an evasive nirvana.
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