February 2 - Barefoot & Tripping

Even though I wanted to stay in the ether, I knew I had to return.

Write an opening of a scene with someone asking a question about a pair of shoes.

“When was the last time you wore shoes?” I ask Frank.

“I don’t know, a month, maybe two months ago?” He stares at the Indian Ocean with a goofy grin on his face. His piercing blue eyes are bluer than the water, which is a moody indigo in this moment as the sun starts to set. It could change on a dime.

The Indian Ocean is the sexiest of all the oceans, passionate and vengeful. Even though it was a decade earlier, the scars from the Boxing Day tsunami were an ever present reminder of that. I try to push the memory of those images, and the stories I had heard from the locals, out of my head.

Reflecting on a natural disaster in the middle of an acid trip is an easy way to end up in a bad part of the mind. The lizard part where the fear runs rampant. That would defeat the purpose of my trip, which is an attempt to rewire my brain to hold joy.

Hikkaduwa, Sri Lanka