The scenario is simple enough. Went on a car trip to the coast, which coast remains a mystery.
Stopped somewhere, and i stepped-out of the car, to take a look around. Went down toward the surf and marveled at the splendor of the surge and the ebb of the foam. Backtracking lost my way, and thought of my wife and oldest daughter probably by now worried abut me.
I was in a primeval mist, with no signs of direction as to how to proceed.I walked a very long time, and i began to see some signs of life. Some Russian people were happily frolicking in hot springs, and up above while walking around saw a post office, marked by the familiar us mail insignia.
So, i was in the US, i thought to myself. That narrowed my search. Kept going.The surf still boomed down below me, having ascended to formidable heights, but i became more and more aware of the growing panic about being left behind. At the very least, i would be inconveniencing them , having to wait for me.
There were a lot of abandoned shacks made out of corrugated metal, most of the paint having been degraded by the salty air, and i went into some of them and they were empty as if in a ghost town. I was beginning to feel sick, and a feeling of nauseous-ness slowed down my steps.
Next , i found myself back in the car, and thought that i must be a ghost to be able to travel like this, and talked to my wife and daughter, and i was hoping they would understand me, even if they couldn’t hear me, and i told them about the post office. I think they got something, but i wasn’t sure.
They found me at the post office, passed out.