There is this road running along the beach. Ever since it's been built, it has been glancing sideways at the sea, thinking and comparing.
The road, although quite long, only runs from A to B and feels very one-dimensional. On the sea, you can travel in any direction, any distance, circling the world if you feel like it and visiting new and strange places, not just A and B. The sea does not suffer from potholes, and the nearest to a traffic light they can saddle it with is a buoy, and the sea immediately decorates that with a seagull.
The road runs parallel to the beach, and parallel lines never meet.
And sometimes, when the road is empty under a full moon, it tries to sing sea chanties; out of tune, in a cracked, dry, concrete voice.
©1997 Zygmunt Frankel - All Rights Reserved.
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