imagination.. my source of hope.
The sky was of clear blue colour, the clouds of fluffy white. Yet, the sun was not totally obscured by the clouds that covered parts of the endless plains of heaven. The sun was the only liberation of light that surrounded the world. The sun reminded anyone of hope, warmth, love.
The sound of the swash hitting the shore had never been more beautiful. The withdrawing of the backwash seemed to pull troubles away, far away. Out into the sea, only to break back in after the swash had found its way back up the sandy shore. The sea breeze never felt so cooling... The leaves never rustled as much.
Along the beach, Kenesiera stood outside the cafe, both hands clutching a small, clear crystal bottle. Within it was a withered leaf picked up from just beneath a tree shedding its leaves. Back home, similar bottles hung from her ceiling. But this time, she was not going to bring this leaf home. This leaf was different. It was withered, of a dark brown shade of decay and holes upon every inch of it. It was not everyday where she would search such leaves. The leaves hung in the bottles at home contained leaves that were still perfect, every bit of it intact, every colour on it still vibrant, showing signs of life. That withered leaf in the bottle symbolised something. Every withered leaf she picked up always did.
Kenesiera's eyes scanned the beach, where people were joyfully playing around, relaxed and laid-back. Yet, even standing there enjoying the breeze, Kenesiera could feel the peace others did not. She was not yet relaxed totally, but calm and poised, as though ready for a ceremony that usually took place just in her life, only her life. Her gaze dropped back to the withered leaf, examining it carefully. Slowly, she walked from the cafe to the very edge of the shore, her bare feet sinking into the sand, the waves crashed upon her feet, submerging her toes with salty water. Normally, she would have waited for high tide and then sit down on the sand, waiting for the water to drown her waist and arms. This time, low tide was enough. She did not want her troubles to go too far out. Perhaps, just enough to let it return together with the swash that had been lost out in the sea when the backwash retreated from the sea.
For a moment, she held the bottle up to her lips, as though praying. Closing her eyes, she let her heart feel the peace and calamity surrounding her. Kissing the bottle lightly, she opened her eyes, vision blurred with tears welling up in them. Then, raising an arm that carried the bottle, she threw the bottle up into the air. As she watched it soar through the air, she wished that it would never drop, never land on the sea and getting all lost and confused among the waves. Eventually, it did. But Kenesiera did not just turn to leave. She continued watching that bottle as the waves brought it further out into the sea. For some reason, it did not look as if it would come back. It did not matter at the moment, however. Fate would decide what would happen to the bottle, as it would decide what would happen to her. Then, with a silent drop of tear into the sea, she turned and went back to the cafe, sitting and waiting for the sunset to arrive when she would call it a day at the beach.
