Neil Gaiman’s Ocean at the End of the Lane

11:26:00 PM

Beautiful surfing spot at Real, Quezon.
“I want to remember,” I said.
“Because it happened to me. And I’m still me.”
There is a tinge of hypocrisy in quoting that line from Neil Gaiman’s Ocean at the End of the Lane. The truth is I only got around to reading it because I had tons of downtime to kill and in the few hours it took to get from cover to cover, I don’t think I came out the same.

I was lost. At least I felt like I left a part of me in the ocean. I still feel like I left something in Lettie’s duck pond. And it makes me want to go back, like err George (?), and try to look for that piece of me. Though I would probably never find it again.

But that’s the beauty of an escape, yeah? When life gets too real, you can just choose to go off and either forget or face the problem without pressures from outside forces. When you come back, you are more or less of who you were but never entirely the same.

The very few times in a year I get to visit a beach, I make sure to leave a part of me. In any form but trash – in deep breaths, in tears, in prayers, in short walks, in getting my feet wet – I take all the pain, all the sadness that remain unexpressed and let the sea wash it away. Then I am left staring blankly into the horizon, listening to the sea and the sand’s soft banter…and for a while, who I was and what I’ve been through don’t matter.

Rating: ☆☆☆☆☆

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