Madeleine,

It's been almost three months since I left you for the mainland, reluctantly, as you know. Not a day goes by that I don't long to dwell in your open spaces, to live under your skies.

Since I returned, I've been drifting through the motion of the days, searching for your voice in the echo of the distant Gulf. But all I find is the gentle lapping of the river on scattered rocks, the fragile song of a stream at my abandoned feet. I listen for the whispers of the wind, when they rise over the lake, I leap, only for them to fade like nightfall at the edge of the woods. Your familiar sounds return to me: your breath shaped by the curve of the dunes, your gusts kissing the vermilion cliffs, your whistling at the windows when autumn announces itself.

My gaze, intertwined with the grey skies, sees once more the outlines of terns and northern gannets slicing through the fabric of the day. Memory brings me back to the waters of your dawns, to the clarity of sunrise and its bluish halo, a secret of island skies. From my thoughts emerge the grace of herons gliding over lagoons, the mist rising in their wake. The light slipping between blossoming wild roses. Fuchsias, purples, and oranges appear in turn until the day reveals itself in full splendor, a living fresco cradling my longing.

It's true, the land to tread here is vast. At times, the scent from the mountain tops nearly makes me forget your fragrance of fresh seaweed in the budding spring. But I am haunted still by the smell of your sea spray when the ocean stirs, the intoxication it brings, and the crispness of the mornings when the sun awakens you.

I move anonymously through pearly crowds, a castaway on a land of a thousand nameless faces. I walk busy roads, dazed by intersections and one-way streets. My steps imagine shortcuts between buildings. When I manage to pause time, behind my eyelids-as-shelter, I revisit your sandy paths lined with beachgrass, once again sketching your winding map I so enjoy wandering in reverie. I am a great black-backed gull soaring above your deep blues, my eyes fixed on the zenith.

And when evening comes to my window, I call for dreams that will carry me back to your embrace, to the softness of your sand, the blondness of your hay, your salty taste. I let the movement of the waves come to me, birds flying at sunset, the eastern wind brushing my skin. I cherish the moment I'll find you again, whole, surrendered. Then appears the tenderness of twilight as it takes with it its final pink gleams, and I sink into delight. In the heart of the silence that merges with the night. Nestled in the cradle of your beauty, embroidered with stars to the edges of the ocean.

Now I know it, Madeleine. I will always return to you.