“I want to feel weightless. Warm too... like this foam”, he added looking down as he dabbled his feet in water.
She saw him with an amused expression.
“Do you come often?”
“Yes. At nights. Alone. Whenever I'm too tired to sleep”.
“How can someone be tired and sleepless at the same time?”
A smile lit his face, “Can be. Look ahead”.
“The ocean's tired of gathering all of river's salt. Still tries to push it to the shore with its waves. Sleeplessly”.
“But why?” she asked, clearing strands of hair out of her eye. The cool midnight breeze carried salt in the air on a quintessential moonlit summer night.
After holding a pause, he added, “Maybe the ocean has no choice”.
“Why not? Who's stopping the ocean from resting down in peace?”, she questioned.
“The same melody to which all life must dance”.
She looked at him with questions in the eye.
“And what of these waves which crash on feet of rocks? What pleasure does such dance bring? Everything just dies eventually. This can't be a melody.” She was curious to hear from him now.
“Not all silence is death dear. Not all ends are the close. This.. and not even a trickle of water which lets loose from sky leaves its place without a reason. That rock has a reason to be. That wave needed to die for a reason.”
“What's all this thing about silence and death then? There's no melody in silence, or is it?”
“If there can be a music in sound, why can't there be a music in silence?”
“Now you're not making any sense. Silence is the lack of sound”.
“Not quite. Sound is the absence of silence. Sound is a cloak which hides the real face of being. Actuality is not sound. It is silence. And in this silence hides a million possibilities of being. Including this crash of waves... this tumble of the midnight tide... of you and me.”
“Hm.”
After reflecting on it for a few seconds she asked, “So end of things is just one possibility? What are the other possibilities then? Immortality? Isn't death unavoidable?”
He tried to lay it plain now. “Look at the chances of you and me being here. Right here. This moment. Sitting on this rock. Few months ago we didn't know the other of us even existed. What could be the possibility of this happening? Life is all about one possibility growing roots into another. Of chances forming relationships with each other. It all forms a web of instances which we connect with. Which we remember as life experiences.”
“But ultimately, we do have to die, don't we? We need to stop somewhere”
“Yes but what suggests that possibilities of existence end with death of body? The wave doesn't really die with a crash. See? There it came again,” he pointed with a smile.
“That's not the same wave...”, she was quick to revert.
“No that one was bigger. but”... “yeah i get it”, she interrupted him
“Its a part of the same thing. Same ocean i mean”, she said.
He smiled and added, “Also has the same rhythm”.
She smiled back, “So everything is brimming with life then? Skies and seas, plants and rocks.. all of it? Sounds like something out of CS Lewis' fiction”.
“Mhm”
“Guess everything could be as fictional or as real as it can possibly be then. Depends..”, she said looking at the midnight sky.
“Totally.”
“And this applies to everything, hm?”
“Completely.”
“What's real then?”
“Redness in your cheeks when you smile”.
A giggle followed to which he pointed his finger at and remarked, “As I was saying...”
“... stop it silly”, she interrupted him grinning.
“I meant what we see and feel this moment is real. Feeling is real. Maybe what we felt yesterday was real then, but we can't feel it now. We can't feel the first rays of dawn yet, so future is not real either”
They faced midnight's horizon. Immersed in placidness, pondering upon the gaze of sky and water with something which connected them both incomprehensibly.
“I think I can feel hearing to the sea now. Its refreshing.”
“Sure is.”
“To the silence of sea now, I mean.”
“Yeah.That's what I always come here for too,” he mumbled slowly.
"And to see the waves break themselves on feet of rocks with longing, while the rocks are deeply immersed in hearing the silence of their being in tranquil quietude".
first attempt at dialogue writing