February 21, 2019
Costeño Beach, ColombiaHumble huts and fishing boats laid peacefully by the sea. I reached the river mouth with my surfboard and discovered breathtaking scenery.
Mountains emerged in the background, with birds floating over the peaks. The river was of a thousand shades of green, swaying with the reflection of the palm trees, the greyish sky and the soft sand bottom covered in mushy yet comfortable seaweed. Three afro-Colombian kids were playing in the water, their laughs resonating like shimmering bells of happiness.
Mountains emerged in the background, with birds floating over the peaks. The river was of a thousand shades of green, swaying with the reflection of the palm trees, the greyish sky and the soft sand bottom covered in mushy yet comfortable seaweed. Three afro-Colombian kids were playing in the water, their laughs resonating like shimmering bells of happiness.
There were two surfers in front of the river mouth, and as I was watching the waves breaking with brutal force, closing out quickly, and coming from all sides, forming far in the back, but also right in front, and everywhere in between, I asked myself if I should really go in.
I went in, my board smashed in my face, and thus went out.
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I went in, my board smashed in my face, and thus went out.
