At Home, Elsewhere

learning how to be at home

The Rhythms of Antibes

The walk along the coast is so different in Antibes than in Australia. The water here seems wilder, as it crashes against the rocks, but in reality the waves are not as strong as those of the Indian Ocean. It only appears to be rough because the area where the land meets the sea here is lined by rocks. As if someone tore the edge of the town off like a page of an old book.

This morning, I took a little time to enjoy the view and approached the old town from the western coast. I climbed on top of the museum of archaeology, housed within an old fort by the sea, and looked around. The old town to one side, the cape of Antibes to the other. Towns in France aren’t built with the ability to take great photos of it in mind, well not always. Antibes doesn’t look nice from the outside, you couldn’t capture the town in a neat whole as you can with others like Saint Paul de Vence or Tourrettes-sur-Loup. You would have to search a little harder for a contained view, something that I have not found yet.

I am not sure that it is possible, as whenever I have seen the city from any large hill it is never remarkable. It always seems to be just a cluster of old rooves which taper out into the flat rooftops of newer apartment buildings. There is no rhythm or consistency within the town’s walls. The treasure is found in its edges, to my mind. That’s why I go there, right to the edge, as much as I can.

This morning, the air was cold and fresh. I had walked to the fort with all of these ideas in my mind. But in that moment, it all seemed to settle into nothing as I watched the waves throw themselves in all sorts of directions. Silence. All the thoughts drained from me. It somehow felt irresponsible that I wasn’t thinking anything or making any plans, but I laid back into it anyway. I think this has always been the energy of Antibes to me.

It draws me into a lazy rhythm, but yet it works on me quietly like a seamstress who never needs to sleep. And it’s working away at something now, within me. I can feel it. Although nothing much has happened in the last few days, I feel the change of my heart starting to reveal itself. Plans never stay the same, yet we hold onto them so tightly sometimes. Antibes has always been the place where I’ve retreated to when my fingers are white from gripping too hard. Here, the blood circulates around my body again, the colour comes back to the surface of my skin and the blue parts of my eyes shine a little brighter than before.

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