Fifth Journey Day 133: The Gulls’ Pause in Rain Air

"The Gulls’ Pause in Rain Air" — Black Sea light holds its breath; the harbor answers in slow, salt-wet rhythms.

Date: September 18, 2025
Location: Batumi, Georgia

Arriving in Batumi, on the Black Sea coast of Georgia, I stepped into humid, sea-salted air and the scent of pines along the boulevard. The city’s working harbor and shifting light framed the day—steady boats, gulls in the mist, and a rhythm that invited listening more than recording.

Sea Air and First Impressions

Today I arrived in Batumi, and the air felt heavier than the air I left behind on the plateau. The city smelled like the sea and pine, which felt both familiar and strange. I walked to the harbor and sat there for a long time. I watched the fishing boats move up and down. They moved a little bit unevenly but steadily, like breathing. The gulls circled above, their cries cutting through the damp air, sharp yet softened by the water.

Harbor Rhythm

The wooden hulls of the boats had been darkened by constant contact with saltwater. I traced the lines of the boats with my eyes, as I would a brush across paper. The sound of water against stone walls was slow but clear, like a steady beat that was louder than all the other sounds together. A man tied ropes nearby. The ropes felt wet and rough in his hands. For a moment, the act felt like part of the same rhythm — wind, wave, rope, breath.

Colors in Motion

The clouds moved as I sat, showing bright spots that moved across the water. The water never became completely green, gray, or silver because the light was always changing the color. I noticed how quickly the colors changed, as if the sea was always restless and the sky of the plateau was the only thing that could calm it.

Choosing Stillness Over Sketching

I didn't open my sketchbook. Today, it felt more about receiving than capturing, more about weight and movement than form. The harbor gave me a space to rest. It was a space with many sounds, but they were not loud. They were soft and quiet, but they were also interesting.

At the Edge of a Change

Tonight, I feel like I am at the edge of a change — the plateau behind me, the sea before me, my body learning a new rhythm.

Travel Notes

• Weather: Overcast skies, 22°C; humid air with a damp sea breeze carrying the smell of salt and pine.
• Scents: Brine and resin from the pines, wet rope, and the faint tar of darkened hulls.
• Sounds: Gulls cutting the mist, water striking stone, ropes pulled taut, and boats breathing on the swell.
• Reflection: A day for listening—letting the harbor’s pulse settle into the body before the hand reaches for the page.

Continue the Journey

You may also linger with another Batumi moment in Rhythmic Reflections, or trace an earlier harbor day in Boy at the Coin Wall.