First of all, thank you so much, Fenian, for sharing these exercises with us. *S*

I don’t know why I remember that one day of our family holiday in Yugoslavia. I must have been less than three years old.

I am sitting on my mother’s arms, curiously looking around as I have always done and still do. There is a white-dressed man with masses of dark hair behind a counter, and his smiling face is looking at me. I laugh at the funny sight of his huge moustache and reach out to tug on it, but for some reason I cannot. I know they sell food here. The man laughs and offers me something round, flat and of a glowing reddish-orange colour.* I take it, stuff it into my mouth and swallow. Suddenly the world is on fire. I gasp for air; my mouth is burning, my lips, and my throat too. Tears blur my vision, yet from all around me I hear amused laughter, my whole body is rocking as my mother joins in. I am angry – and very determined not to cry.

We are on the beach. My mother and I have built a castle in the sand, but something important is missing. It has a wall; it has a tower and a house inside. What is missing? Yes, the water! A castle must have a circle of water around it, all castles do have that! My mother hands me a paper cup, and I bounce off towards the water, but I am never fast enough to make it flow around the castle as I can see it in my mind’s eye. All I can see are big, spluttering bubbles before the now dirty water just disappears. The castle is ugly now; the white sand has turned grey and dark, and the water vanishes faster than I can fetch it, regardless of how fast I run. Why does it disappear? How I wish somebody could tell me why the water doesn’t flow for me!

I am on an airbed that is sitting partially in the water, and I am looking around. Right behind me is the beach; I can see my parents waving over to me. There are many around me, and the waves make the airbed and me gently bop up and down. It is covered with fabric, dark red on one side, dark blue on the other. I like the blue side better, and this is the one I am sitting on. To my right I can see a long, narrow patch of land, covered with sand and lined with trees. Far off to my left there are rocks, but in front of me, in the distance, there is only water, an endless horizon of water, framed by the rocks and the trees like a wide portal. I dream of what might lie behind this portal.

Some time later I realise that I am moving, and I turn around. I am still at the beach, but the airbed is now completely in the water. I am happy. I will now find out what lies behind the portal. The sun is burning hot whenever the wind ceases, and I feel like I am about to discover the world. I start paddling with my hands, slowly, almost absent-mindedly. I am much too fascinated with what I can see. The trees to my right are drifting along faster now, I can see them move, and I can see the portal coming closer. The sounds around me have fallen silent, just some birds calling in the sky and the waves lapping against the raft. I am sitting in a puddle, but I am on my way, and so utterly happy. I dream of colourful beings out there, beings that can fly and swim; I want to see and be friends with them all.

On the right hand side I can see the tip of the land, like large a yellow tongue with trees on it, and I turn around to see how far I have already travelled. The beach is nothing but a small curve now, far, far behind; the people there are colourful dots that hold no interest for me anymore, so I turn around to face the horizon again as I pass through the portal.

Behind me I can hear screams and shouts, but I don’t even turn around, I am too fascinated with the new wonders that unfold before my eyes. White boats are there, I can see sails. To the left there are still rocks, but in front of me and to the right there is nothing but water in so many shades of blue and green and brown. The wind is stronger now, and I turn to face it. A sudden bump makes me fall from my kneeling position onto my face. Water floods over the airbed and one side is pushed beneath the surface. I turn around. My father is clinging to the right side of the airbed, his face is red and he is breathing hard. He barks something, I understand he is worried, and I try to tell him that all is well, but he cannot understand. He doesn’t listen, even as I start to cry and point towards the sea. There are some moments of hope when he heaves his upper body onto the airbed, but then he just wraps an arm firmly around me and turns us around so that we are facing the beach again. I don’t remember our way back. I didn’t look at the trees or at the beach.

All I can remember is that I was crying, devastated because I would never know what else was out there.

* This strange reddish-orange thing was a slice of paprika salami, by the way.