THE BEACH [Elsa Kaariainen] The seasons are changing, but the wind by the sea always feels the same. Many beaches are aligned one after the other, but I get the feeling the one before me is the one from my childhood. The horizon holds the memory of my presence. I step onto the sand and walk toward the sea. Beneath my feet I sense the uncountable number of crushed rocks, granulated by waves for millions of years. The sand is decorated with seashells and plastic bottle caps. I avoided coming to the beach during the summer, as the scenery is filled with crowds of noise and bustling. Now, with my fall cardigan and the silent surroundings, I feel a space for my deepest thoughts. Off in the distance, I see two children scooping sand into the shape of a castle. One of them finds a strand of seaweed, and he gets up to chase the younger one with it. I haven’t come to the beach since I was a child because I find there’s nothing left to do here as a grown-up. I can only enjoy the scenery, inspecting an image from the past. On my way to the shore, I collect seashells with shades of white and purple. The waves are trying to swallow the sand, calling for my body as I come toward them. The water is cold, covering me up to my knees. Holding the seashells in my hand, I dunk to rinse off the wet sand. A wave hits my thighs, and I lose my grip. I swear at the sea’s playfulness, but I let the shells swim far beneath its rich body. The hem of my shorts is soaked, and the flesh of my legs is numb. I look back into the distance where the children play, and their parents enjoy lunch on a cloudy day. Trudging through the sand again, I only think of the summers I used to spend here with my sister. Those days, I wanted to be nothing but careless and stupid. My sister loved the sea, and any time she had on her hands, she would walk an hour to the closest beach near our house. I didn’t understand her obsession with soaking her body in water, the sand infesting her clothes and shoes, but as a younger sibling, I followed her anywhere she went. The beach bustled with crowds of people. As soon as we put our towels down, my sister took me by the hand to take a dip. I felt the strength of the wave pulling my body farther from the shore. I had my eyes on my sister as she dipped beneath the surface, expecting a wave to take her with it. It was then that my sister said that if she was given the ability to breathe underwater, she’d live in the ocean. I asked whether she’d be afraid of a sea creature capturing her. She only shrugged at my question with a smirk on her face. Her hair swung with the wind, her gaze to the eternal horizon of her home. One night, my sister decided to make a trip to the beach, although it was past curfew. I pointed to the pitch-black darkness outside, but that didn’t convince PLAINS 50 paradox