down the beat goes
(homage to Virginia Woolf)
Down the beat goes, he thought, crossing the beach at night, hungry for water, thirsty for that ineffable drop of something real. For Heaven only knows why one loves it so, why one wishes it so, making it up, beating it round, jumbling it, creating every moment anew; but a wide stretch of sand aglow in a surreal beacon of light, fenced by an easterly wind, holding it back and letting it go, inhale, exhale, just breath, yes, this was life. Three strangers abide in the same place, a future remembering, past and present tensed; they connect in the pounding of the waves and the music of the wind that whips their hair across their faces, plays the wires of their bicycle spokes, a rhythmic tapping on their open hearts, and now his. This was what he loved. Down the beat goes.
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