A decrease in wind speed. The tension of my muscles lowers, the effort to keep my body balanced diminishes. I can finally dissipate my thoughts and restrain from a focused and physical work. The wind, my rig and I just found an agreement: a delicate and sensitive way to proceed.
I sail. My feet, now firmly on the board, rise and descend with the movement of the waves. A timid lapping resounds, while my windsurf procedes towards the open sea. My eyes stare at the uniform, monotonous line of the horizon. A September sun, no more hot, not yet cold, warms my shoulders and I can feel the direction of the wind resounding in my ears.
Cradled by a blue, velvety fabric, I get slower. I grasp lightly the boom and close my eyes for an instant. Then it’s time to follow the wind and change direction again.