by Andrea Damic
Because the coastline erupts into a polyphonic cacophony. Because the adrenaline spills over her skin like ice cream melting on the tip of a tongue. Because her body erupts from a concoction of emotions, aware of the ephemeral moment. Because seeing it in her peripheral vision, approaching at tremendous speed, she transcends time. Because curbing the unstoppable supremacy of Mother Nature underneath her bare feet, going at it hammer and tongs, she finally seizes the infamous mythic Mavericks. Because bohemian is a way of life.
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Andrea Damic, born in Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina, lives and works in Sydney, Australia. She’s an amateur photographer and author of prose and poetry. She writes at night when everyone is asleep; when she lacks words to express herself, she uses photography to speak for her. Her literary art appears or is forthcoming in The Ekphrastic Review, Door Is A Jar, The Dribble Drabble Review, Five on the Fifth, Roi Fainéant Press, Your Impossible Voice, and elsewhere. She spends many an hour fiddling around with her website.
