Light 🗞️ Slow News Day #52

Hey,

From the car park at Gwynver Beach, everything was dialled up to maximum. The light shone in all directions—from within and piercing out of the lazuli water and the swirling blue and yellow sky—as if we were nestled inside some secret coastal paraboloid. The strength of the light played tricks on the ocean, such that the passing clouds cast fast-moving, luminous green shadows on its glistening blue. They moved in perfect silence.

To do it a huge disservice, the view—perched, as if in an eagle’s nest on the near-sheer cliff-edge—is dramatic. Sennen Cove settles far off to the left, the rocks off Cape Cornwall glint past the headland on the right.

It’s a long way down to the beach, taking in a narrow stretch of coast path and a steep descent on stony steps and sandy soil. The beach itself is golden, fringed at the edges by shingle, and at the shoreline—about an hour after high tide—a sudden shelf drops half a metre or so and tinges the pleasant, rolling waves with threat.

I stayed knee-deep and let the waves hit, digging my heels in and revelling in the insistence of the loose sand and retreating water at my calves. Bex waded out to that peaceful gap between the wash and the waves, dunking in and bobbing happily.

Back at the edge of the beach, resting on the warm earthy stones, I watched the sun play on the headlands either side of me. When the clouds are thick enough, the rocky outcrops become a mass of greys and greens—dulled and strong. When the sun breaks through and casts them into clarity, the coast path shines out of the murk and paints a quiet snail’s trail across the hillside.

I thought about the way things become clear when the light is strong. How the pictures and stories I hold in my head are not factual, but products of the light at the moment I captured them. I wondered about the paths I’ll see when the sun shines brighter. I wondered about the paths I’ve missed.

Slow down guide

Need a little help moving slower?

Ease your way out of Friday afternoon with this newsletter, a nice cup of something, and a little background music. Steal my setup if you aren't sure where to start.

After I press send, I’m going to bask in the options available to me in Penzance. We’re staying just up the road but coworking by the harbourside. A short walk will take me to The Honey Pot, Jubilee Pool Cafe (with Yallah on batch, as the earliest subscribers may remember), Roundhouse, or The Terrace. Satisfied, caffeinated reports to follow over the next five weeks.

Musically, I’d love for you to meet me between my teens and my twenties— where drum and bass beats meet soulful lyricism and soaring vocals. I found Nia Archives on a playlist curated by Miso Extra, which means we’re starting from a flag as green as the clouds on the Atlantic from earlier. Let me know how you get on with So Tell Me…; it’s proving to be a lungful of fresh Cornish air for me.

Take it easy,