“Are you saying I can fly?”
“I say you are free.”                                                                                                      -  Jonathan Livingston Seagull 

   Beaches take my breath away but salty waters destroy my love affair with the ocean. When we went to Cordillera Beach Court, I consoled myself by simply walking around the beach while being tickled by the sand on my feet, rather than dipping my body into salty water.  I walked at the almost far end of the shore looking for “other” sights to photograph. There I found  the spirited young boys whom I endearingly called The Flyboys. 

They reminded me of one of my wildest childhood dreams, to fly. To fly without engine or growing wings, the mere act of being up in the air, almost touching the sky.  

When they saw me taking photos , each boy came to me and gestured that he would do the act of “flying”. That brief moment of suspension, when an act is frozen at its zenith, everything becomes possible, even flying.

They all had their own unique ways of flying, somersaulting in the air,

or with a little help for tossing their weight.

Flying just like any technique, follows a series of steps before being up in the air. No one touches the sky without holding the ground.

And then, they let gravity win over the weight of their body.

The fear is not in soaring but in the landing.

Sand or water. The uncertainty of where their somersault attempts would land them.

Seeing their flights ignited what I had been losing in contact with, the child in me, the child who believes without the ifs.

The child who doesn’t always do things right and discovering that the other way around  can turn out to be more profound.

But the best part of the flight, is sharing the wind with the others. They lined up as if getting ready for their final curtain.

Ready,

Get set..

Fly!

A splash was more than enough to seal their fearless flights.