The sun dips just behind the houses of the city, which borders to the bay. The bay over which I stare used to be one of the ports from the time when the Venetians still ruled the areas around the Mediterranean Sea. The calming clatter of the murmuring sea against the edges of the bay gives a certain tranquility to the edge of the noisy city. Walkers shuffling along the bay are looking for a good restaurant at this time of day.
As the sun bids farewell to this side of the earth and darkness embraces the dimly lit bay, the atmosphere of the city changes. Despite that changed atmosphere, the sea murmuring to itself continues to tell her story.
Three-quarters of this planet is covered with water. Huge expanses of water about which we know very little. Beneath the surface of it lie secrets that are far from being unraveled.
We humans live in ever-growing cities, soon to be mega-cities. Cities that are increasingly claiming ecological space. We always demand space from the sea and the sea that demands its space back again and again.
Like a cat working only the surface with its nails, we only touch the surface of the sea. The magnificent beauty of being her is beyond our imagination. The sea tells us in its own language about its past, present and future. We don’t understand that language, but we can’t name that language either. We also do…
