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Sakara Storytellers: Sandy Spanish Kisses

This month we launched Sakara Storytellers where we ask you to share a moment of your life with us and the incredible Sakara community. This piece was submitted anonymously, but had us dreaming of foreign summer adventures. 

It was July 2008. The Spanish air hung heavy over the island of Ibiza where on a sliver of beach I sat in a lounge, soaking up the shine of ten million stars spilling out of the sky, inhaling the salt expelled by the crashing waves, conscious of the perfection of a universe that would place me in this very moment. 

And yes, a man. A Barcelona native, we met through his family and found ourselves solo participants in a group of married sisters, parents, and brother-in-laws that spent several weeks that summer on boat rides around the island, diving in private coves, lounging over hours of paella, and drives in a gloriously vintage orange VW van.

There was dinner under the sensual full moon where we talked of astrology, past loves, and the argument against meat. The walk along an empty beach, smoking spliffs and talk of designer ex-girlfriends that fled to Argentina. Warm beer mixed with cold lemonade sipped among the stones and the most gorgeous sun set of your life. The crowd clapped at nothing more than the marvel of nature.

One night the man and I came to an outdoor lounge where we drank mojitos, listened to 1960’s Americans hits, and contemplated the tilt of the universe. Inside, I had no reference for how to act. I was 19, had gone on less than a handful of dates and was in a foreign country with a new person. Instead of relying on any personal experience, I turned to the hundreds of books and movies I had read through my teens. I narrated the scene as it happened, told myself to be calm and cool and sank into the moment. Complete and total presence that can only truly come when there are no possible thoughts to think.

One mojito turned to three and as we stumbled along the sand towards our car, we slipped and allowed ourselves to fall into the sand. There, anticipation turned to action and I kissed a man with a fervor burning inside me that I had never felt before. We gave ourselves over to the night, to the moon and soon the sea where we laughed less than we kissed and blended our bodies (or was it our souls?), coming up for air as the cool waves wet our entangled bodies and sand seeped into our nooks.

There were many parties, other hookups, scenes of complete revelry and abandon happening around Ibiza that night, but I would have never known. 

Sound blacked out by sand. Sight consumed by the night sky. Smell of pure desire. Taste of tongue and mojito mint. A feeling indescribable but somewhere between fear, euphoria and surrender.

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