The Selfish Sunrise

I emerged from the pink ocean dripping as I stepped onto the damp sand. The sun was still swimming beyond the horizon but was actively coloring both sky and sea. I had been immersed in that salty sunrise. The air temperature and water temperature had meet an equilibrium where there was little difference between wet and dry. It was all the same feeling. All the same color. The humid air. The still surf. All the same. Sand caked onto my feet as moved away from the sunrise, away from the sea-swell. I sat on the blue and white striped mat - my sandy feet hanging over the edge.

There I was, staring at this incredibly colorful and dramatic display and the first thought that came to my mind was "I should take a picture of this". Then a second and more powerful thought came to my mind: "No."

It felt like doing so would steal the sunrise's soul - capturing only a fraction of a second of something that existed in a constant state of fluidity and nuanced shifting light - preserving indefinitely what is meant to be only temporary. Part of its beauty was the window of time in which it was framed. And that window was only a quarter of an hour in length and breadth and depth. It was not meant to live beyond that.

The decision was also a selfish one. I was already forced to share this with the guy fishing up the beach to the north and the couple to the distant south. Wasn't that enough? They easily faded though into periphery when I focused on the infinite horizon. . . or closed my eyes in meditation. The rhythmic sound of my breathing, The rhythmic sound of the surf. Breath and water, air and sea, one. This was just for me. This was my sunrise.