Dear Stranger,
This morning, quite by accident – or maybe by fate – i stumbled upon a place that feels like it belongs more to dreams than to this earth. I woke up early, restless and tangled in thoughts, and decided to take a ride, without a destination, hoping the air would soften the weight in my chest. But what i found felt like stepping into a secret written just for me..
Fifteen quiet minutes away from my door, past the usual streets and sleepy trees, i found a beach i never knew existed. Not the kind dressed in gold or white sands, but a long, breathless stretch – almost a whole kilometer – of pure black obsidian. Can you imagine it? A shoreline made of darkness, shimmering under the sky light of morning, like a thousand broken stars. The world was still and almost holding its breath when i arrived, as if even the wind knew this place was not for many eyes..
It felt like the sea had secrets here, like this beach belonged to another realm where shadows have stories and darkness is not something to be feared, but something that holds magic, wild and patient. I wondered how much life must hum beneath, that black skin of stone, what quiet creatures slip between the cracks when no one is looking. It wasn’t heavy darkness – it was the kind that invites you to look deeper, past the surface and past yourself.
I stood there for a while, letting the obsidian sand drink my thoughts. And i made a promise, to myself more than anything : every time the noise inside me grows too loud, every time i feel like the world is pressing too hard against my chest, i will come back to this place. No matter how much fear i may carry, no matter how the dark shoreline might unsettle me – i will return.. Because sometimes the very thing we fear, is what reminds us we are still alive, still capable of wonder.
It’s strange, how life keeps secret places like this so close, as if waiting for the exact moment we need them.
If you ever find yourself searching for a pocket of peace, stitched with a little darkness, maybe you will stumble upon one too.
With warm thoughts from the black shore,
– A soul rinsed in obsidian and May’s fire
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