An eternal present

The day before yesterday I decided to go to the beach. Not for any particular reason; I just felt like going there. Even though I ought to have learned for my examinations on Tuesday. To see the waves smashing upon the yellow beach, it was once again beautiful. At times there was sun, on others only the darkness of clouds hanging over the world, colouring the sea broken darkblue. Timeless yet so moving saw I the grains of sand slendering across the beach or into the sea. Thousands of footsteps cannot even describe the feelings that afternoon. I felt the urge to run but I didn’t. All I did was walk, from Zandvoort to IJmuiden, while sometimes standing still to let the wind blow me apart. My mind was full of rubbish. I still have no idea where to go next. Suggestions are welcome.

On my way back I tried studying, but I was quickly distracted by the people around me, a beautiful girl in particular. First she fed a pigeon at Amsterdam Centraal, to the extent of irritating a guy who tried eating his sausage roll and in doing so wanted to scare the grubby pigeon away from his food. He was in between her and me. The train arrived and this was the end, because I’d took the door right and she the one on the left. But once inside the double-decker train I choose the upperleft and she the upperright, so I ended up sitting nearly opposite of her. I glanced at her a couple of times while trying to study for Cognition, but she kept reading and never looked up (‘duhh’). It may be that I was utterly irritating her. She needed to get even further down south when I walked out of the train at Eindhoven station.

All that really struck me were the poetic words at the end of a paragraph on amnesia: “As a result, he lives suspended in an eternal present.”