Walking the Beach: The Anti-Tourist, The Anti-Vacation

It’s November and I’m walking the beach in Italy. All destinations are closed. The only movement is the intermittent stray who strolls the sand for solace, the opposite pole of the crowd-seeking tourist. These solitary figures reside in the area, unlike me – the anti-tourist.

I find beauty in the abandoned, the left and forgotten. Allow me to view the shell without its adornment, the stringed lights unlit, the lost shoe. It is in these empty spaces that narrative abides. The boat overturned, the painted white tent poles that contained vendors of food, the empty seats and barren sands. Short stories are housed within each moment, a populace that expands within the space and its imagination.

Swimmers, bathers, vacationers en masse. They are all there for me. But in my time they come and go, there is no wait and I have it all to myself.