Fifth Journey Day 50: Fingers in the Sandfall

Date: June 27, 2025
Location: Nida, Lithuania

I walked the Parnidis Dune this afternoon. It felt more like drifting than walking — a kind of loose motion, where the landscape refused to hold still. At first, the sand was pale and dry, but deeper in, it changed. It became heavier, fine, and cool, as though it remembered rain. My shoes picked it up, and I let them.

There was a slight breeze, but it wasn't too strong. It pushed at my jacket and pulled at the small hairs near my ear. It stirred a low, even rhythm in the dune grass. There weren't many people. A person riding a bike passed by without saying anything. A couple walked in front of me, their steps easily going with the slope. The expanse was not overwhelming; it was simply there, a steady presence that didn't demand anything of me.

I didn't take any notes. I thought about it, but there was nothing I wanted to fix into lines. Instead, I stood at the edge of the ridge and watched the sand fall away, little by little. It's easy to forget that silence isn't the same as absence. Here, it felt full — like something that gathered around me rather than emptied out.

Afterwards, I sat by the lagoon, where the water looked dull and not very exciting. A boat moved slowly, its shape soft against the gray water. I stayed until I felt the cold in my fingertips.

Today, I'm not thinking about anything too exciting. It was a kind of quiet that settled into the body without needing to be expressed with words. It reminded me that it is rare to feel untethered, but not lost.

Sometimes, art comes later. Today was all about being open to new experiences.