The Beach.....

I am inarguably detained and captive to the thoughts and experiences of my past like a jungle narcotic and to their fixed and unchanged emotions which run rife through me as though it were my true life force instead of the shady red blood. As a child I took it all in, everything, I adapted quickly to life and the environments which surrounded me as if a chameleon. Life was fresh most of the time and I, inquisitive for it and its purest moments would inhabit embrace and devour all of its substance. I fed on the best of what came my way if only for ever so brief a moment or for simply a glimpse of an encounter with this intoxicating breath and mystery, called life!

Ah! The beach, this charismatic deep blue liquid which pools over our planet like a sultry woman from the east draped in pure silk. It surrounded me as I grew up in Sydney's south, and though even as painful as it was to dip in the cool salt water whilst eczema peppered my flesh in every joint and fold of skin, exposed and eaten by its appetite I fell for its hook. As mountainous as the seas could be to a child, tossing and tumbling one so young end to end with tremendous ease and without remorse all the while starved of breath only to be ejected to the surface for deep gasps of oxygen, then dropped again face down deep in wet gritty sand, grazed legs mangled in surf! It was exhilarating to be released and survive its rough play, dumped and spat onto the beach looking like a garnish twisted and served on top of some Thai dish. I was drawn by its beauty, its hypnotic dance, wave upon wave, backward and forward, sheets of foam and glazed ocean racing upon the yellow sands pulling, grabbing and swallowing whatever it could then spewing it back again, I was drawn into its compelling tow.
Thousands just like me shaped and unshaped, different yet all the same species sojourned towards it like a trek to Mecca and would demand an audience with it surrounded by golden sands cusping its edge. We came to watch and peruse, to sample and squander, to be seen and to have the day deplete us, every ounce of pure energy exhausted by this tireless and ageless sea. Exquisite and exotic beauties would parade the hot sand, endless rows of bronzed and chocolate mannequins lay still baked and crusted with thin layers of salt as they lie motionless in the sun on coloured canvases. Radios carried the flirty and sensual sounds of the beach boys, while frivolities on the beach perpetuated as frisbees dashed from one end of the unencumbered Aussie sand to the other, beach balls bounced and flew against the bluest skies whilst a kaleidoscope of beach umbrellas studded and promenaded the beach. Eskies filled with icy coke, bottled ready to be popped which quenched a tide of thirsts, ice creams on sticks ran down the fingers and arms of children, tongues madly racing to capture every last drop of melted vanilla streams. Zinc cream pasted thick over lips and noses to prevent scorching and burning. Bronzed feet flicked up grains of sand as the gentle breeze would carry them back to the collective and wet revealing speedos were worn by shaped Aussie males and children. Bikinis were filled to overflowing as though the rest of the costume was to be purchased at the next lay by payment. Coconut oil lavished the bodies of women and girls roasting them in the gorgeous sun, the scent was heavenly, memorable like that of an Hawaiian Island. The sounds were contagious as laughter resounded throughout the surf as it thundered down onto the sands, it was perfect in every way. I never grew tired of the beach and all its pleasures. The smell of pies and sauce littered our senses, the aroma was hypnotic and the local kiosk had lines banked up to the hot asphalt. Hot chips and sauce, fish and chips splashed with vinegar, with the sound of seagulls squabbling over the random discarded potato chip! The people came in droves to worship, laying at the alter of its power thrashing the seabed floor. Seaweed tangled around ankles and the screams of fear from what had ensnared them beneath the cool depths.
Macho teens paraded the beach with their sun bleached blonde hair. These surfers would nonchalantly carry their waxed boards down to the waters edge and enter the cool sea with prose, diving onto their boards they would paddle out beyond the breakers. The rest of us inadequate, would lay on the polystyrene boards obtained with a meal for a buck from Colonel Sanders and doing the best we could to catch a wave. We'd emerge from the water with rashes on our simple chests from the constant rubbing of flesh from the now cracked board.
Girls had eyes constantly on them like fly's stuck to the backs of heavy sweaty men. They flirted around as if owning everyone's adoration whilst their white butt cheeks began to emerge from those slinky bikini's as though they had deliberately fallen just a little, enough to distinguish where the white's of their skin met with their sultry tans.
But as for me the buckets and castles were in my eye line watching those mounds of soundly formed shapes only then to be demolished as we jumped on top of them. Holes were dug on the shore to be filled by the ocean as the tide turned and filled them to overflowing. These were simpler times, times when a family consisted of a hard working father and a stay at home mother with two or more children picnicking together. Families took walks together over the shell crusted rock pools, children poking at toad fish with sticks. Mobile phones didn't encroach on our times together nor did foul language lavish itself upon our ears. Body language was meek without anger or violence, courtesy and manners were well implemented and rapport was common place amongst us all. Children scoured the beach unattended to find shells and dig for crabs whilst parents went for romantic walks and took short cool dips. Where else could you walk the coastlines under the blue skies of freedom in such a wonderful land such as ours. It was a simple time, we were all younger then! Our youth was spent innocently exploring the soul of our continent.......The Beach.