Dear Esther. I have found myself to be as featureless as this ocean, as shallow and unoccupied as this bay, a listless wreck without identification. My rocks are these bones and a careful fence to keep the precipice at bay. Shot through me caves, my forehead a mount, this aerial will transmit into me so. All over exposed, the nervous system, where Donnelly’s boots and yours and mine still trample. I will carry a torch for you; I will leave it at the foot of my headstone. You will need it for the tunnels that carry me under.
By the first note I am reduced to tears. How did you capture my sorrow and paint it into a picture, a marvel, anxiety and resolve at the same time? This solitude pierces my mind, this sound is deafening.
I can feel the wind on my skin and smell the ocean water. The cold of winter embracing my being the sand beneath my feet. The sunset seeing right through me and rocks pointing and poking at my hurt. Dear Esther is my deepest sadness.
This man, this story. I have become him and live his tragedy. How can I be so contempt with my unavoidable expiration? How can I be so serene in my last hours? I am overwhelmed by the beauty and overcome with emotion. Exploring the most extraordinary landscapes and caves. The most intriguing setting, all telling the tale of regret and remorse. I am encased in this world, lost and wandering. I could live here forever if it wouldn’t consume my sanity.
How extraordinary this place is. My eyes grow wider at every glance and my heart just drifts along for the ride. I have no longing for salvation, only for the strange comfort of silence. This path I follow is sure to lead to my demise but holds the promise of freedom. I’m afraid of the unknown but lured and enchanted by it. In the distance I can see a beacon. It draws me closer, pulls me in, I need to reach it. It’s my anchor, my sense of sanity. I must follow it, it’s were I’ll find what I’m looking for.
I’m angry at the happenings of late; it’s like a festering, nagging wound. I’d like to shout it from the hill tops, but I don’t.
Upon entering these tunnels the breath is punched from my lungs, all my defences are shattered and I am left bare and in awe. The glow of blues, greens and reds ensnare my mind and imprisons my imagination. I can only see this, feel this and live this. Every step is magical, every sight entangles my senses. The ink on these walls seep into my veins, into the very fabric of my existence. Exploring here is like exploring myself, if only I were this beautiful inside.
The clear air outside grows colder, I’m chilled to the bone, these paper boats are my thoughts drifting along a shore line. These words are reflections of me coming undone. I am driven, pulled, called upon; I am compelled to run towards my destination. This gripping need, want, overtakes my mind and there I see her in the distance. Dear Esther please don’t leave. She stays and I am too afraid to approach her.
Climbing this tower is the grand finale, crescendo, and the eventual realization. Atonement as I leap from above and sore across the journey, I thought I’d finally die, instead I realize that I’ve never even lived.