The Atlantic and I

Mid-October 2013. Later in the year than this I’ve never swum in European waters, but I’ve long dreamt about taking late baths in the sea. Yesterday the temperature of the water and the air was the same, nineteen centigrades. The occasional early-morning-walker on the boardwalk, a fisher on the cliffs, but I was the only one who undressed and walked into the water. Soft, welcoming, nearly no waves. And completely carefree: no need to think about sunscreens, the risk that someone would steal my things or even about having to wriggle decently into my clothes.

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A month ago I swam in the biggest Swedish lake together with my cousin. On the way back, he remarked that it was odd I didn’t have a car, that he had difficulties imagining not being able to take the care somewhere else. He has a point, but I might as well ask how one can live in a place where a one hour walk doesn’t take you to the ocean.

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