I just had a wonderful experience and felt compelled to write it down.
Just as the sun is setting in the west over Anahuac it has become my practise to take a Belikin Stout to the beach, facing the east and the Caribbean.
It is a peaceful time of day. The holidaymakers are all at supper. The heat of the sun is a thing of the past. Drums beat melodiously in the distance and reggae plays from bar a hundred yards away. The moon is rising and a bird soars above. A cool breeze comes in off the sea and waves develop to come crashing in on the shore. They are not the waves of the Indian Ocean of Mozambique or KwaZulu Natal, they are a more gentle wave, a more peaceful wave. The sky changes colour from the deep blue of the day to the softer blue of the evening. The white clouds turn pink, reflecting the glory of the setting sun behind me, out of sight behind the trees.
The air is fresh and I feel myself relaxing; enjoying the moment; savouring the smells of the sea and the changing tapestry of the sky. In the far distance a light aircraft takes off and flies south towards Punta Gorda and Toledo District. The sound of its engine is muted by the disatance. The pink clouds darken to a fiery red, making a promise for tomorrow. The sea changes from a deep blue to an iridescent green; which is reminiscent of those far off days in Beira. It is almost transluscent in the fading light.
And then it happens! As the last pink fades from the eastern sky, as the sea darkens to a fathomless green with white wave caps the phosphorescent flashes that I have witnessed only once before, in Beira, appear in the foam. It is a spectacle that, to me, compares with the Northern Lights, a phenomenum I have only seen on film, but which is apparently of the same origin; natural electrical energy being discharged. I wish that I could photograph it for all to share, but I also selfishly clutch it to myself.