Ghosts of the Flats

The sun climbs high on an azure sky, and on the flats it’s easy to empty your head of everything except instinct and sense that my life had become complicated. The easy pace of the Bahamian people is addictive and I could easily see myself slipping into the natural progression of this place. The isolation, anonymity, natural beauty and wildness, warm translucent blue-green waters heavy with bonefish, snapper, barracuda, and permit, calls to me in an incessant and primordial sense. My eyes strain against reflected sunlight on the water searching for shadows, the slightest movement, and yet my mind wanders. Now the allure of this place is not unlike wild trout streams that magnetize me with their sense of inherit freedom. And it was this very freedom that I was seeking here, standing in this warm water so many miles from work, which became the respite I craved.