I don't hate the sea

For three months I got love for photography and I used it as a cure by a hatred that has always felt: the sea. I put in two contrasting feelings to break those routines that could not stand: sit on the car and touch the scorching steering, back into the machine and lower the windows to let in the wind refused to blow, or get hot, get to the threshold of the sea and get cold again, so much as not to want more wet, or even the sand inside the costume, between the toes, behind the knees, sweat, salt on the skin that begins to itch as soon as you wear the clothes, the stones under the feet, the fingers of oily hands of sunscreen.