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Six Months below Sea
- Edited by Willem Schinkel, Liesbeth Noordegraaf-Eelens, Lena Tsipouri, Vanja Stenius
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- Book:
- In Medias Res
- Published by:
- Amsterdam University Press
- Published online:
- 23 June 2021
- Print publication:
- 15 July 2012, pp 126-128
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- Chapter
- Export citation
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Summary
Look well, look well, oh lady mine
The gray below, the gold above
For so the grayest life may shine
All golden in the light of love.
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, from: By the North Sea (1911)As he approached the small apex of the hill, his head began to throb. The headache that had been giving him problems earlier in the day had returned, and this time, with a vengeance. Beyond the fence, a voice loudly echoed between the dunes. Female; his girlfriend. She was yelling out towards the sea, with her back to him and the rest of North Holland. The sea replied with low drones, and the wind howled. He placed his hand on the wooden railing and sighed. Although he couldn't see her, he was sure that she had gone down to the beach. A moment later, he heard singing. Head still pounding, he started to work his way down the hill towards the water, following her tracks while carefully shifting his weight against the stones. The last thing he wanted was a mouth full of sand.
The wet sand stuck to her black boots, leaving perfectly detailed prints as she evaded the advancing tide. He must have heard me. Smiling to herself, she wondered how long it would be before he found her. She enjoyed these little games; mental duels played out with the results already long decided. She would withdraw from the physical world around her – like hide and seek on a higher plane. Then, just as she sensed his interest fade, she would return. Like the Dutch sun searing through the perpetually overcast sky, her warmth would return and radiate across the land.
He looked over his shoulder and squinted. There hadn't been sun all day, and there still wasn’t. The wind had picked up force, pulling tears from the corners of his eyes. She stood a few yards back, taking pictures of the water. A stamped train ticket escaped from his fingers and danced wildly across the sand towards her. She didn't notice. His narrow gaze fell upon the horizon. Grey, but still pretty.