As found on Free Radicals
In a season of few sessions my imagination runs with the images.
My hair is common brown, no longer tell-tale blond tipped. My neck has no rash, nor defined wetsuit tan-line. I lean over. My nose is dry.
Settled into the corner of my couch, kids asleep, dog tucked by my hip, I flip through a magazine or enter an e-door. Just as always an image stops me and I dream. Often it is a wave unridden or a framed capture of those moments that we remember through our surf-sense-memory. Yes, we who surf have a sixth sense. Sometimes, as above, it is a traceline of a story, now old enough to be decoded.
This image is particular to a certain telling of a certain history, and mine happens to intersect it often. What beautiful chance to be able to claim the feelings offered by these boards. What fortune to be so located in history to surf crafts from the eras and into the future.
Thanks to Ryan Field for providing stirring images in conspiracy with RK.