Prose: This is how it goes: your body at the edge of the shore,

This is how it goes: your body at the edge of the shore, staring dead ahead into nothing. Seagulls flying high above spread their wings towards the sky; from where you stand it looks like a peace sign more than anything. A good or bad omen, it doesn’t really matter. You spread your own makeshift wings (your beautifulslenderarms) and start swimming, blending in seamlessly with the vast emptiness we call the sea. You see it more as a challenge; as the waves beckon you back to the shore, your carnal lust for physical strength urges you to swim against the tide, further and further towards the horizontal line that differentiates the sky and the sea. It is at this moment, when you can’t picture the line with your naked eye anymore, you realize that both entities are really not so different. Just like how the soul and the body is connected, and humans make an imaginary line in order to distinguish one between the other. That, in actuality, it is existential and consequential because the other exists. It is while you are surrounded in this nothingness that it hits you; that we compartmentalize in order to achieve a kind of perfection, a system of ordered and manageable thought that was never really there to begin with. And here you are, swimming gracefully, parallel to the seagulls gliding effortlessly, towards the sun.