Archives for category: Swimming

Some lines ask to be followed, like the thick black line at the bottom of the swimming pool. Its so reassuringly adamant about showing me the way. Obediently I follow and even try to race it to the end of the lap. Its bold blackness tells I won’t win but I don’t mind.

Everything is okay, as long as no one else tries to swim in my lane, along my line. I have become as arrogant as my big black line.

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Every Sunday morning when I put on my swimmers some grains of North Curl Curl beach come off in my hands and I’m reminded of all those Sunday mornings swimming in the surf at North Curl Curl a year ago. The sand was coarse, the sky was big, the water fresh, blue and salty. We laughed a lot. Now every Sunday morning I pull on my one-piece in the changing room at the pool in Jüri, a small town not far from the north coast of Estonia. I go into the pool area and swim laps, looking out the large windows. Each time I turn to breath I see bright, white snow and children tobogganing.