Journals from the Jungle VI: Still Not Sure if I'm Awake

I gave, and I allowed myself to be taken.

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The following are journal excerpts—a series of stories from my recent travels.

February 2024: the final day

It all reminds me of the sea. A sea within. Sometimes, like they were at sunset tonight, the waves are ferocious and wind-whipped, spray thrashing into the sky before a smoldering sun. And the same sea will also, later, be barely whispering—lapping delicately at my toes. Seasons. Swells. Conditioning.

Tonight, the waves seemed to be bearing down on me from a distance. Just far enough away to do no damage, but to threaten it. Not angry, just pure, raw, power. And, it showed its incessant nature—tireless until eternity. Roiling and seething, cooing and sliding, trickling and crashing and all as it pleases, purely.

Tomorrow, for my final day, I will walk to the beach for a swim with the birds. I will bask. I will say my farewell. I will try to smile because it happened.