I must've been living the Longfellow reverie that moment - 'Sitting and watching the changing color of the waves that break upon the idle seashore of the mind'. The canvas before me looked like it had been dipped in a hazy blue hue. The distant horizon was but a mere blurry line. Lost in that haze I wondered, if colors had sounds, what would the sound of blue be like. The answer dawned on me during those few days that I spent amidst the clear blue skies and the deep blue sea.
The sound of blue must be that of the restless waves hitting the shores tirelessly from times immemorial. The hissing noise of the snowy white foam that soaks the shores as the mighty tides come in. The gentle whisper of a receding wave. The gurgling sound of the bubbles from little crab holes scattered along the shore.
The sound of little kids playing splish-splash in water. The whoosh of the wave hitting you as you play "Catch-Me-If-You-Can". The rippling sound of the tides that hit your boat, spraying you all over with the freshness of the sea; and that of the ones that you ride on your water ski. The faint babble of the ripples created by the incessant rain. The sound of the water trickling down the roof of that little shack you're resting in, watching the downpour soaking the sea.
I had read somewhere that after a while, the residents of the sea cannot hear the sound of waves. How bitter it is, the sound of routine! But for unfortunate souls like us, living amidst constant man made cacophony, it meant all that and much more.
Time to go back to the old cacophony. I'll return whenever I need the sounds of blue to wash away my daily blues again. Till then, so long... :)
