Phillipines - Lethargic Perfection
How spoilt we can become when each day dissolves into a repetitive decision: the shore, the sea, or the sheets?
How relaxed we can be when the sun and sea and the sand conspire in a warm humid embrace that smothers as tenderly as it soothes.
How innocent we are when sunglasses wear like armour, beers arrive colder than you’re ex’s heart, and food is fresher than forgiveness, all at the price of pocket change.
How effortlessly pretty we appear as skin ripens to a bronze, hair curls in the salt, and our bodies settle into the sharp embrace of sand.
How greedy we grow when another horizon is never enough, when every reef demands exploration, when every island demands perfection.
How ungrateful we are when shells underfoot no longer fascinate but irritate, when salt and sweat on the lips no longer tastes of romance but of routine.
How arrogant we become when we expect paradise to reinvent itself daily, forgetting that its repetition is its essence.
How shallow we seem when the deep sea becomes background noise, when coral cathedrals and neon fish are reduced to distractions.
How tiresome it becomes to compare one sunset against the last, to demand novelty from a sky already bleeding above.
How lethargic life quickly becomes when the dilemma of the day is what bunch restaurant to consume your morning oats.
How wonderful the world is to allow perfection to become predictable, when magic becomes mundane, when paradise becomes numb.
