Crowds, Concrete, and the Blue Horizon

An impressionistic escape from the Edinburgh Fringe crowds to the wild western shores.

The oppressive August heat bears down on me as I walk through the festival crowds.   I make my way through throngs of people down busy streets, head down, marching. Sirens echo between the buildings, down the streets and alleys, between the buildings. loud cars drive past. The heat weighs me down and the fumes billow and churn I'm choking         in                 sweat              asphalt             road dust            noise. Voices rise          to a din and           a hum        a wave of sound        a current of words. Sharp laughter bubbles and pops, as chattering couples move past, oblivious. I'm in a current of people, an avalanche of sound, clamour, ruckus, clang, honk, wail. 
It's Edinburgh during Fringe. 

                                                                                                          I must go down to the sea I think. 
Escape                                                                            Escape the crowds and noise.

Escape to sea 

I must escape down to the sea. 

I 
make
a    plan:
escape to sea
and leave it all behind. 
the crowded town of smog and 
steel for wilder shores alone. For salty  
spray upon my lips instead of swears and wailing
Then seaward bound by foot and train I travel cross the lands

green miles drift by through rainswept slopes and valleys

With every mile the peace descends through 

rhythmic railroad movements. As hills

drift by and seas approach

I lighten.

Ah


the horizon lies where sea and heaven meet—faint alluring blue of peace and promise 

the wind rustles reeds ashore
                                                                                          while hissing waves roll in 

                          gannets grace the skies                             under
                                                                                                                steel grey clouds

over cobalt water                                                                                                


                         silhouetted rocks    
                                                                                                                         
                                                                                              gently warmed by sun


              crying gulls


                                    and                                                                        scent of salt and sand


as bewinged boats roam free across the waves            



                                  feeling the serenity of the sea and the wild horizon


                                                                    i sail away.

---

Thank you for being here and reading this experimental essay. Due to the growing influence of AI on writing I wanted to write something that incorporates the visual shape on the page, cadence and non-linear sensory structure to create something impressionistic and undeniably human.

I’d love to hear your thoughts on the style and its effect as you were reading in the comments below.

Note: If you read it on a phone screen, the text partially adapts, but some of the deliberate spacing and structure is lost. If you get a chance, consider reading it again in a browser (using this link) to experience the intended effect.

---

Support Soulfaring

I love writing here and want this to be a sustainable project long-term. It is only possible thanks to your generous support.

If this work brings a little quiet or inspiration to your week, please consider becoming a free or paid subscriber:

You can also find photographic prints and postcards inspired by these journeys in the Soulfaring Etsy Shop.

---