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Exploration - Yifa
He had reached it. Finally, Yifa had reached the ocean.
He had walked for days on dirt paths. He had never known anything but the dirt. Tillage, plowing, harvesting. He had never thought of the sea, until he began to dream of it, to perceive it as the immense expanse of mystery that it is.
Now the sea was at his feet. The water crashed on his ankles in a perpetual growl, and with each wave, he couldn't help but jump with surprise and joy.
Slowly, he had picked a little foam in his palm. He had brought it to his nose, and felt the iodine and the wind and the algae. He had brought it to his mouth. The foam had melted under his palate, bitter and salty.
Now Yifa was staring at the stars. He was lying on the sand, which he had never imagined. He refused to close his eyes. The intensity of the moment was more beautiful than any dream. Against his back, he felt the heat of the campfire he had buried under a thick layer of sand. He could still hear the embers crackling. He was also listening at the rhythm of the waves, impressive and even terrifying. That evening, he refused to sing. His voice would have sounded ridiculous against such a surge of fury and life.
He felt his strength abandon him. Against his will, he fell asleep, and it seemed to him that he was merging with the elements, and disappearing.