Between Waves and Words Something in Me Shifted

Day 81, 82 & 83 • My Journey to the Sea and Beyond

These three days were quieter than they look at first glance. Yes, there’s surf. Yes, there’s salt and sun and a body that feels alive. But what stayed with me were the conversations. The small sentences said under stars, in shade, in the spaces between noise.

Day 81 to 83 is less about decisions and more about noticing: how people look at you, what they dare to say and what becomes possible when you stop forcing yourself into labels too quickly.

My Travel Diary - Previous Days:
1 / 6 / 7 / 20-1 / 20-2 / 21 / 22 / 25 / 26-1 / 26-2 / 27-1 / 27-2 / 27-3 / 28-1 / 28-2 / 29-1 / 29-2 / 30 / 31 / 32+Unnumbered / 34 / 35+39 / 41a / 41b / 43 / 45+47 / 50 / 57+61 / 64+67 / 71+73+80

Day 81: Conversations Under the Stars

Tonight we sat on the beach for a long time.
The wind was mild,
the guitar was in tune
and the wine was open enough for honest words.

Lina sat down beside me.
She is maybe twenty-two, blonde, slim, full of energy.
The kind of woman who is always barefoot
and whose laughter you hear before breakfast.

She said softly,
“I like the way you surf.
You’re not faster.
But you seem… clearer.”

I smiled. And said nothing.

Later she asked,
“Have you ever really been in love?”

I nodded.
And looked out at the sea.

“With a man?”

I looked at her.
And said,
“With people.”

She was quiet for a long time.
Then she said,
“I think I’m in love with someone who doesn’t see me.”

I placed my hand on hers.
“She does see you.
Maybe just not yet in the way you need.”

She leaned against me.
Just for a moment.
Then she got up and left.

I stayed.
Listened to the sea.
And felt Juna.
And Luca.
And myself.
In the middle of it all.
Not torn apart.
Just there.

I stayed sitting for a long time
after Lina had gone.
The guitar had fallen silent,
the fire was only embers now
and above me:
a sky that asked no questions
but offered no answers either.

Lina’s words stayed with me.

You seem… clearer.

What did she mean by that?
Clearer than what?
Than before?
Than herself?

And what had I shown her?
What had she seen?
What had I been sending?

I could still feel the trace of her shoulder against my upper arm.
Brief. Warm. Real.

And there it was again,
that question that no longer wanted to stay hidden:

Am I sending signals?
To women?
Without meaning to?
Or maybe precisely because… I want to?

I’m not in love. Not now.

But I see women.
Differently.
More awake.
With a softer focus.
Like a photographer who does not zoom in, but simply observes.

Do they see me differently too?

I never feel as if I’m flirting.
But maybe there is something in me
that invites curiosity.
Or feels open.

I wonder:
Is that why I keep men at a distance?
Because I don’t want to define myself yet?
Because I don’t want to explain again
that closeness does not mean possession to me?

I think of Luca.
His quiet way.
The closeness in him that never crossed a line.
His kiss.
And how I let it happen
with joy,
but also with a small distance still inside me.

I think of Juna.
That first look.
The tremor beneath my skin.
The sense that my compass is quietly shifting.

I sit there.
Between two worlds.
Between two possibilities.

Or maybe:
inside my own.

It is quiet.
The air is warm.
And somewhere in the camp, a door slams shut.

I keep sitting there.
Salt in my hair
and a feeling
that still has no name
and yet already feels at home.

Day 82: Full Tilt

I was the first one in the water this morning.
The sun still low,
the sea still cold,
my body still tired
but ready.

I paddled out.
Long, strong, fluid strokes.
My shoulders burned,
my legs ached.
But I was there.
Completely there.

The first waves were rough.
Unpredictable.
I fell, ducked under, laughed.

And then it came,
the one.

I turned, paddled, stood.
Cutback.
Snap.
I felt every fiber of myself.

And at the end:
a spray of salt in my face,
like applause.

Back at camp, it smelled of coffee and toast.
Lina slapped my back, laughing.

“You animal.”

I just grinned,
grabbed a bowl and filled it with fruit
as if life were something
you have to make generous for yourself.

Later, in the hammock,
I let my muscles melt.
I was drenched in sweat,
my cheeks sunburnt
and somehow
more beautiful than usual.

I noticed the way the others were looking at me.
Not just the men.
The women too.
Longer.
With something beyond curiosity.
With that look
that asks whether there might be room for them
on the towel beside you.

I felt seen.
Not judged.
Not defined.
Just… reflected.

I thought of last night.
Of Lina’s shoulder against mine.
Of the silence after.

And I wondered:
Am I open to everything now?
Or simply open to myself?

Maybe that is what is new:
not deciding too soon,
not denying anything,
just allowing.

Today I was strong.
Beautiful.
Loud.
And quiet.

And when I stood under the shower,
with tired arms and calves still warm from the sun,
I thought:

I can be anything.
But I do not have to be.

Day 83: A Place in the Shade

After breakfast, I moved my hammock a second time.
Away from the fire pit.
More shade.
More distance.

I wasn’t tired,
just emptied out by yesterday.
My body felt soft,
not exhausted, just content.

I dozed.
Read a few pages.
Laughed at a sentence I didn’t understand.

And then Zoe came over.

She is quieter than the others.
Red hair, freckles.
Small, wiry, quick on a board.
You can tell she doesn’t speak to fill the silence,
but to show that she is listening.

She asked if she could sit down.
I nodded.

We were quiet for a while.
Then she said,
“I think a lot of people here admire you.”

I grinned.
“Because I cook for everyone every night?”

She shook her head.
“Because you seem enough for yourself.
That makes people uneasy.
And somehow… it’s beautiful.”

I didn’t know what to say.

She kept talking.
“For a long time, I thought I was only into men.
Then there was this one woman.
And now I keep asking myself whether she was the exception
or the truth.”

I didn’t answer right away.
I knew what that feels like.
When categories stop fitting.
When the drawers you used to sort yourself into suddenly jam.

I said,
“Maybe it’s neither.
Maybe it’s simply… a moment
that lives inside us
and is allowed to stay.”

Zoe looked at me for a long time.
Then she nodded.

“You loved her, didn’t you?”

I felt my throat tighten.
“Yes.”

“And him too?”

I breathed in.
“Yes.”

She smiled.
Not knowingly.
Not demanding.
Just there.

We sat for a while longer.
Then she stood up,
touched my hand for a brief moment
and disappeared.

I stayed where I was.

And I had the feeling
that something inside me
had just found peace
without a single word too many.

“When I read these three entries back, I notice what surprised me most: nothing “big” happened and yet everything felt slightly rearranged. Not because someone tried to pull me into a story, but because two women spoke to me with a kind of honesty that doesn’t flirt, doesn’t perform, doesn’t demand. It simply is.

And that does something to me. It makes me listen differently. It makes me see myself differently, not as a label, not as a conclusion, but as a woman who is allowed to stay open without explaining herself.

If you’ve ever had a phase where your inner drawers didn’t fit anymore, where you didn’t want to decide, you just wanted to notice, I’d love to hear what helped you through it.”