Words by Laura Nickel, Photos by Kadi Tiede
Down on the shores of a sun-soaked island the ocean boys dance and play.
They hurl their bodies across a stretch of earth where salty water meets the land.
The world sprawls blue for the black skinned boys who live by the sea. It is a stretching firmament, taut, swollen with color, and spilling down in waves.
Each drop of unused light rolls gently to this corner of creation—a life bleached golden when the sun sinks low.
Knotted shoulders and bony elbows catch the glow of day, and when the ocean boys roll their bodies on the shore, clumps of ivory sand spread like constellations on their skin.
A human body is a galaxy. Theirs are dark like deep of night and speckled bold in milky stardust.
The ocean boys fight like brothers, dashing and leaping and wading through blue.
Torsos twist, and limbs lurch wildly, and when the seaborne boys breathe deep, their lungs press notched ribs into tightly drawn skin.
They are each cosmic winds tethered to sinewy muscle and bone, ever-moving, restless, and astir.
Across the sea on a far-flung shore, spirit pours out in azure-violet waves. This is the waking world whither the ocean boys rush, sand in their palms and salt on their lips.