I lift a pair of binoculars to my wind-bitten face. The rubber presses firmly against my eye sockets. I squint.
There it stands. A solitary figure. A towering giant. The only object for miles that breaks an otherwise immeasurable sea of animated concrete. A beacon of artificial white, creating a sailor’s pathway to impede the mistress’ thirst for man. The surrounding grey thrashes and catches hungrily against the side of the tower. An appetite only truly appreciated by those in its midst. Froth suds streak through the water like fat on bacon. Sprays of bubbles aimlessly leap and burst against the granite exterior, in a vain attempt to stick to the surface like limpets. In a monochrome blur of trial and effort, the figure stands firm. Unbreakable.
A brief dance of light pierces through the noise in my head but disappears as quickly as it arrives. It bewitches me as I watch it coming and going in a circular motion, reaching further than I can see. A wand of white slicing through the slab of concrete as effortlessly as a hot knife through butter. It serves as a warning, as a guide on the periphery of a perilous maze of rocks.
The great bellowing roar of the waves strikes my ear drums, disturbing my trance. A flurry of wind, stronger than I can stand vertically against forces my decision to retreat. I glance at the granite giant one last time. It is resilient. Solitary. Isolated.
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