This is the farthest I have ever been, this is nearly the farthest one can go without leaving the planet. It sounds more momentous than it feels.
What a darling little place. The streets are dark, half-asleep. I don't know what it is, but something smells like sweet, sweaty, tangy pine like the wood shop in the basement of my primary school that used to make my nose itchy. Maybe it's the eucalyptus? The ample layer of cinnamon-coloured bark on the ground? And the constant smells of a summer holiday just about to begin: insides of campervans that haven't been used all winter, airing out the lighter summer linens, flowers quick to bloom and fade in the rapid heat. Crushing sun-bleached shells under my espadrilles, like pulverizing baby teeth. My shoes get wet, the water is warm. I think of sharks and then turn to cross the beach, my back to the sun. I feel lucky, I feel present.
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