sunrise / carve / sea

sunday came with a spectacular sunrise. i was up early, and kept taking pictures, stunned once more by the colour shifts of dawn.

later i browsed some lit-sites, and saw that Carve Magazine has its summer issue up, which presents the winners of the Carve short story award. this immediately brought back the memory of "The Last Hours of Pompeji" by Marc Nieson - last year's 1st place in the contest, and 1 of the 10 favourite stories i nominated for the story south award.

this, of course, set the benchmark rather high for this year's 1st place: "What You've Done For Me" by John S. Walker. i printed the story, and when the sun came out, read it on the terrace. at some point, raindrops started to fall - that's when i was wrapped in this passage about being out there on the ocean for months.

I tell her how when you’re out there you feel so far from everything, from anything. I gesture with my hands. On the table I try to draw things with my finger, and she watches me. “Like a big circle, and flat,” I say to her and I mark off a wide parameter on the tabletop, “and you’re in the middle, only you never can see the sides. There’s no end to it."

fast forward to late evening. it's 22:10. i stumble into a docu called "Tasman Solo". it's about a man - Andrew McAuley - who tries to cross the Tasman Sea. with a kayak. he's out there, on the water. and there is no end to the water. there is only him. and the sky. and the water.

it's while watching those scenes that the short story gets back to me. and gets under my skin. together with the opening lines of the film. which are the words sent by Andrew when he gets into trouble. at that time, he is just some miles from making it. then the docu moves to the start. to the preparations. i just looked, there also is a website about the crossing: the plan: Tasman Solo. and a diary.

and no. he didn't make it.

which, again, connects to the story, and its ending lines.

(and maybe i should try for happier reads and films next sunday. hollywood-productions or such. but then, you can't have the stunning sunrises without the risk of rain. and as this sunrise really calls for a wider horizon, i just put it up in a larger version - click the photo to get there.)

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