La force d’une vague

That January morning still carried the sea’s fury. A week of rain, two days of storms, and wind strong enough to knock the horns off goats—the perfect setting for a shattered spirit. 

I slipped into my sneakers like a second skin, fleeing my doubts with long strides. Bab El Oued welcomed me with its usual poetic chaos. 

My feet found their own way to El Kettani pier while my mind drifted between «what if» and «maybe»—when suddenly, a kamikaze wave crashed against the rocks, giving me an impromptu saltwater baptism. 

I’m not talking about some polite ankle-splashing ripple, but a full-force breaker—salty, unapologetic, ruthless. The shock froze my breath, iced my veins, then... laughter. 
Pure, involuntary, rising from the depths of childhood. The wave’s raw power had rearranged everything.

Soaked but determined, I pulled out my camera, daring the next wave. Sometimes it takes the ocean slapping sense into you to remember what matters: life is a story of tides and choices.

There are moments when you need to be drenched to the soul to find your light again.