Under my Feet
My foot sinks into the layer of little stones, making hundreds of tiny dents in my skin. My feet are pretty sensitive, but the pressure is distributed enough so that even the few sharper ones only hurt a little and do not cut. But most of them have been smoothened anyway. I am aware of the sound they make while shifting positions and grinding against each other. And then the crunching sound slows down as if time were standing still. The waves of the Mediterranean continuing to roll onto the shore in slow motion. It is hot today, and I feel a small drop of sweat finding its way across my brow. And then time begins to fly again. Another moment begins.
E-M10 Mark III