Surfers and the sea

Chiavari, my hometown.

Evening, after a storm. Big tired waves. Moon.
I love september. No more tourists, no caos. Fight between summer and autumn.
Day shorter. An harbinger of melancholy.

An explosion of colors. Thin, fresh air.

Time suspended, a starting wait for slowly season, when soul will get rest, full of memories of summer travels and experiences.
Space for freedom.

Suddenly, at twilight, some surfers.
This is one of the famous place to surf. It is where Entella river meets the sea, creating long waves. It is a place well know by surfers, but they keep it secret, like
mushroom pickers, jealous of their special places.

The sea is their true wild dimension. They wait and follow big waves like Acab looks for Moby Dick.

The sea has sacraments made of blood, it washes us of our sins - when we swim in its uterine belly. It makes our faults descend to the bottom, like a black fluid, like weightless oil, dispersing them.
The sea teaches us what the world is like without gravity and without bitterness, it transform us into dazed astronauts staring at the blue below, motionless, beyond the spacecraft, enchanting between the glittering abyss and the mother earth. We feel, like them, half men and half God, half sky and half roots, half body and half spirits. It takes us still, before the big decision: to stay here forever, or come back to land...

Pictures taken with Sony Alpha 7iii camera.
26.09.2020