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nest: beach pavilions

They start building each year in heavy rain and wind, yet they are the sign of a summer to come. Men with hammers and ladders, constructing the pavilions in a time span of only a week or so. Together they lay foundations, they pull up the frames, climb on top to cover the construction with wooden paneling, then fill in the sides with wooden planks and windows and start bringing in their kitchens, chairs and tables. It is a ritual, repeating itself every year, yet with slight differences: sometimes another color, a new kind of roof, maybe a tent construction, or a new bar inside.

The splendid repetition of this yearly ritual is the key to our coast, we live with the seasons and long for summer. We sit outside at their terraces when it is still chilly and the wind itches our coats with small grains of sand, we drink cold beer while our hands are freezing, but this is a moment of joy as the beach pavilions are open and the summer is near. We long for long evenings when the sun stays up ‘till after ten, we long for the countless colored layers of the sky, resting above the horizon, we long for that last second of the sun sinking. We long for our bare feet in the sand, for the cold water around our skin when we dare to enter the sea on the hottest days. And at these days, we laugh at the surreal memory of the walk in the snowstorm, the heavy waves and frozen foam on the sand, realizing that that was only a few months ago – or ahead.


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