It’s a bit too cold to just sit here. On a community bench. At the bay of Mgarr-Ix-Xini. Even if it were only for the name I readily sit here. Mgarr-Ix-Xini sounds like Thousand and One Nights to me. Because romanticism is what I am made of. It’s the sea drawing me here. It’s particular appearance as recorded in my mind. Living on a small island opens gateways to new horizons. This day’s sunset do I prefer roaring waves full on? Or an unobstructed view towards the point where man and the universe meet? Or do I opt for an inlet where seawater is rolling on pebble shore and where concrete boat landings are used for pulling in and out bright colored wooden fishing boats that are now silently resting ashore. My emotions tell me where to go. Being grateful for nature’s overwhelming reality. I definitely need something bigger then myself to rely on, to submit to and to have me sheltered.

It’s half January. Not the time of year to go out on a little fishing boat. Behind me an older man climbs into his Landrover Defender. A well kept one. I say hello. Jealous of his house at the inlet. Reminiscent of Marie Antoinette’s hamlet in the gardens of Château Versailles. Romanticism here however, manifests itself in pristine and real forms. Not affectionately made to be nice but efficiently made to live, in, through and for. A birdcage hangs at the secluded veranda to reach with stairs carved in the rock that shelters the house from behind. I wonder if it’s lonely these days at the shore where beautifully colored seawater rolls in and out repeatedly, incessantly, reassuringly alive. The salted liquid cristal is grey reflecting the soft velvet sky above her. There’s hardly any clouds. Vaguely visible is a cotton like lining of one woolpack cloud. 

Although I started with saying that it’s a little bit too cold to just sit here, it actually is remarkably warm for the time of the year. I am dressed in an olive green suede body warmer and a black scarf instead of a decent winter coat, no socks neither. The cool air touches bare parts of my skin. I am surrounded by the soothing sound of the sea. Meanwhile my gaze drifts off again to the grayish water, brightened by mellow light blue tones. Further out towards the open sea the colors change to darker blue. Fresh and vivid, radiant of happiness. Which makes me laugh. Because we humans tend to project our feelings, interpretations and opinions on to other humans. What is good for me, is good for him/her. No second thought about it. That’s why we don’t like strangers in general. They’ve been brought up and conditioned with other habits then ourselves. We don’t understand. And thus are scared. So far about projection as a social dynamic between people. I didn’t know I project my inside on to the sea as well. At least it isn’t harmful. I do know that when I am happy I prefer the sunrise over the sunset. When I am sad I am comforted by drowsy weather. But regarding a natural phenomena as happy or sad without a single difference in it’s appearance, is bringing me another step closer to both Einstein’s theory of relativity and Plato’s ‘there’s no object without a subject’ miracle. What exists, exists solely in the eye of the beholder. An almost full moon rises behind the cliff at my left side. I am struck by it’s clarity, appearing in a still bright and clear evening setting. While the seawater, now the light reclines looks less colorful but still very beautiful. My fingers are cold. The moon is amazing. The sound of the waveless water rolling on the pebbles and the concrete boat landings resonates in my ears. I am receiving the present.