That's me down there (courtesy of Marc) doing Yoga while my daughter, man and mother attempt to scramble up on the terrace of the beach restaurant with their ten bags of clothing, camera equipment, sand-playing equipment, food equipment, diaper-changing equipment, and other important stuff. Amazing, the calm I manage to exude. But then again, it's not me that's scrambling...
Even more amazing though, is that I managed to sneak off for a few minutes during the lovely (but expectedly busy) meal (Isabelle spent most of her time running around inside the restaurant, with either Marc or me running behind her (to avoid her getting into the kitchen you understand) (why would that be bad? said my mother) (clearly Marc and I share an otherwise unheard of obsession with the incredible number of knives and other weapons contained in restaurant kitchens) (and other kitchens too, in fact), but that was before she made friends with the Husky dog who sat by while she stuck straws into the sand, commenting on all her activities for his entertainment ('Kijk, ondje, ik gaat nu ietjes hier in doen!'), anyway I managed to take a break from running, worrying and checking whether my mother was still enjoying her food to take pictures of these sea poems, written on the glass wall that kept the wind from stealing our hats.
Altogether a deceptively Zen depiction of a family meal in the open air. What the lens can hide, I tell you, is more than you can know.
