The table desk was plastered with all my chattering notes. All of them grouped by colours to differentiate the authors’ ideas. My vacant look is telling me that I need a break. I turn my head to the window, and I stand up.

A gentle breeze moves my hair while I am getting nearapproaching the window. I fully open the window-glasses,windowpanes; their grilledgrills do not interfere with the sight of the splendour sight of the ocean. I bend myself over the windowsill. With my upper body out of the window, I let my lungs receive the pure sea air, which I felt it flooding all my numbed senses, wide-openingopening wide my imagination.

My eyes rest on the waves crashing on the rocks, and I imagine that they are having a tete-a-tetetête-à-tête. The waves bringing gossipstales from faraway places; other people’s lives and stories. The inscrutable rocks just listen attentively, and when the waves stop their bubbling talk, the rocks solemnly say:
“Different people, dissimilar cultures, but all have the same feelings: hope, deception, uncertainty, love”, adding, “we are not alone, we are small stories imbued in a bigger one.”

I smile to the ocean, turn my face away, and calmed and revived, I come back to the table.