The beach is stony. Lumps of rock with sharp edges and clumps of sun-bleached weed lie washed up on the shore having left their glistening underwater home. There is so much more water than beach. An island covered in green sits central on the horizon, and the water is striped pale blue, turquoise, lilac – bands of light and bands of depth dividing the sea. Seaweed in crescent shapes beneath the surface make blue lines along the bottom.
It’s shallow and I have to float flat for a long way, kicking only my ankles so as not to graze my knees. I glide out, looking at the island. It looks further away from the water than it did from the land, something to aim at though I have no intention of going the whole way.
Looking back from the water I can see the private villas and fancy hotels on the cliffs looking down on me, their beauty lent to them by the blue, blue water. How incredible to live so close to the sea, and to sea so inviting, warm and colourful.
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