fiume cedrino

What else is there to ask for, if not a genuine connection, a real relationship without pretenses, without the layers we often hide behind? Here, by the sea, there is the vulnerability of facing the night alone, the quiet fear of sleeping in the cold, of being exposed, without the warmth of company or the comfort of certainty. Yet, in that fear, there’s also the search for something deeper—the calm that the still sea offers, the peace it carries, the steady rhythm that can seep into your own mind.

It’s a search for that inner stillness, a quiet place within yourself where the world outside doesn’t matter so much. As the sea whispers, the wind hums its song, a lullaby that invites you to soften, to let go. You long for that calm, for the sensation of drifting into sleep not with anxiety, but with acceptance. It’s the surrender to the night, to the elements, to the unknowable future.

In the sound of the waves, in the rustling of the breeze, there is something profoundly comforting. Not an escape, but a return to something more primal, more honest. The world around you becomes a companion in your solitude, and in that space, you begin to realize that the stillness of the sea reflects the stillness you seek within yourself. The sea, vast and ancient, has no need for explanations, no expectations. It simply is. And perhaps, in learning to rest like the sea, we, too, can simply be—without artifice, without pretense.

You let the waves carry you, as they always have, to a place where you can dream in harmony with the sound of the water, the wind—both outside and inside you. The fear, the uncertainty, the noise—everything falls away, until all that remains is the pure, comforting rhythm of life itself, breathing in sync with the ocean.