Begur in Blue

I remember her like this. Barefoot, sun-drunk, stretched against the lines of a boat.
The air smelled of salt, the sea hummed its endless song, and for once, nothing felt urgent.

The sea stretched out forever, and for one afternoon, time did not exist.
She lay back against the wood, eyes closed, her body surrendered to the horizon.

The world could fall apart, and still she would float.

The lines are simple, almost fragile, but the feeling isn’t.
It’s the calm after the storm, the silence after years of wanting.

I painted it in the Costa Brava, when we were living there.
I had fallen in love with those traditional fishing boats near Begur.

I always said that one day, we would have our house, and this boat.
And that I would watch her like this. Weightless, free, no struggle left.

It is a vow. A goal. A dream, painted before it arrived.