Less is More Wide Awake



It had taken us to Nonza, my girl crush and me. The village is on Cap Corse, perhaps twenty houses huddled on a rocky outcrop towering above the sea. Nonza, it is written, has 73 inhabitants.

We marched down a thousand stone steps and took up quarters in the still vacant ruin of a stone house; other backpackers were already living in the few other remnants of houses. Our house didn't even have a roof. Perfect if you wanted to make a campfire. We got talking to the neighbours; one, Luc was his name, he was quite nice, I must admit.

The next day a strong wind came up; the waves reared up in front of me, twice, three times my size. Luise sprinted off and dived under a huge wave to get out into the sea. I hesitated, I didn't dare.

When she came back: Do like me, then the wave won't catch you and throw you on the ground. It's very simple.
That's what you say.

Night I woke up with a jolt, pedalled to get rid of the sleeping bag and went to the beach. The water was still raging. The foothills of the waves tongued my toes. Suddenly Luc was standing next to me, I hadn't heard him coming. He ran and dived under the waves. He was gone. Damn. Show-off. I backed away from the water, took a running start and -

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