12 June 2012
The morning is his.
Alone he plunges into the dark grey depths where it is cold, before moving into sunlight where the water is flecked with gold.
The circles around him fan and ripple before dispersing like an echo into the water and air and light, his imprint a brief lifespan before he skims the waves, floating free, almost airborne, on his first solo flight.
Surfing Solo • Opuss № I