I am rereading Raymond Carver’s short stories. Nothing happens in these stories, nothing in terms of real-life events—suggestions of events only. A man and a woman are lying in bed. Nothing happens. Only the woman can not sleep. We follow her restlessness. A postman welcomes a new family in town. He observes them while they settle and leave town again.
There is no twist at the end of the stories—just a little wrinkle, at best.
Yesterday, I walked from our cottage at West aan Zee to Hoorn along the beach, an 8—or 9 km walk. There was a fierce wind in the back and some threatening rain.
I was impressed by the fractal-like figures in the sand, which formed 3D maps of unidentified countries (Which made me think about the barren landscapes of South America and Africa).
I had a great lunch at Kaap-Hoorn, roasted vegetables folded in Lebanese flatbread.
Continued to walk through the dunes and the woods to Formerum. Then, the rain washed me from the street, and I was picked up and brought home by car.
You can always find something unexpected. People dancing on the beach, this time.
What was a white beach in my youth – 45 years ago – now seems to become an illustration of a walking island.
I once lost one of the first digital watches here—a Trafalgar with red numerals that lit up only when you pressed a button. My father had gotten it from a colleague, who had gotten it as a business gift but thought the thing was too ugly—something like the one below. Very ugly indeed.
Yes, Dirty Harrry, with three r-s: https://www.dirtyharrry.com.
