Christine and William stand where many have sacrificed their lives. And soon the same struggles will take him away too.
All choices arrive at the same destination, thinks William. The inevitable is always one step ahead, it teases you with the illusion of free-will and chance — departure was already planned at arrival.
‘The ships will be here soon,’ William says.
There are circles in the sand, linked and defiant against the coming tide. His father had known it, and his father too, it is part of the human condition that we must learn from sufferance so that subsequent generations may suffer less.
Christine tiptoes and kisses him. ‘Sea air always has that feeling of hope, don’t you think,’ she says. ‘Like it could go on forever and never stop. When the war is over we’ll walk here again and when we’re older with the kids.’
William holds her closer and faces the sea as the waves fade and ripple into the mist. He wonders if those that live there gazed at the shifting sands with the same dread and interminable wonder that they did at the moving water. That this too could be the beginning and the end of everything.
In response to: Sunday Photo Fiction, April, 2nd 2017
Image by: A Mixed Bag