The change carried a cool wind as the warm night turned into a chilly morning. I started my morning walk with the “Good Morning” tune from “Singing in the Rain” dancing in my head. It quickly turned into a thoughtful self-reflection as I failed to wish a good morning to a man walking his dog. We crossed paths in silence, I not able to see his face for it was still quite dark at 5am, I concentrating on the dog and wishing that I had one to take for a walk with me, I wishing the man to have a good morning, I not saying it out loud, I sensing his eyes on me, he walking on his way and I creating mine. The wish untold.
An hour later I stood at the edge of the pier. One step ahead starts the sea that goes on and on and it could take me so far. And I thought that next time I want to live in far and unknown places, I will come to that pier and breathe through the stories of deep and loud water and I will let it tempt me.
Two men and a woman readily answered my now confident “good morning” wishes. They lured little fishes onto the sharp metal hooks. I saw them catch a few. Every time the woman said “It’s too small, put it back” and so the men did. Poor little fish. Injured and then shockingly lifted up, soon declared too small and unsuitable. Somebody left an orange starfish to dry on the wood of the pier. Its edges were deep pink. Dead. I rolled it to the edge and pushed it into the water. Soon the still yellow star glowed in amongst dark green weed.
Later on I stood and watched the sea. Transparent water. So immense. Foamless waves crashing near my feet. They looked strange. Just a few metres away the waves had the white edges, but not at my feet. There was just transparent water. Maybe a few bubbles, but not enough to all together be white.
(Digital photo. Image and words from around 6am at South Melbourne pier.)