Monica

Monica (who also participated in the 2013 edition) explains the process of writing her 30 sentences as well as the context:

“The piece is fictionalized autobiography in that this summer I really did walk on a stony beach (on Catalina Island). I also suffered from very bad asthma when I was a child and my parents really did invite an old family friend to see if reflexology might help (not uncommon in Romania). My experience of writing this over the span of 30 days (though not continuously, I must confess) led to an interesting accretion of thoughts. I kept hearing snatches of conversation that seemed to be in dialogue with my piece. I listened to not one but two people during this time randomly extol the benefits of going barefoot so as to be connected with the earth. Some of my own current difficulties began to be filtered through the lens of my own story.”

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She walks barefoot on the stony beach. With each step, she aims for either a big flat stone or a grouping of smaller stones, covering at least the space of a foot. From a distance, the grey-blue, soft purple and beige-aqua beach is beautiful. Up close, tiny flickers of pain seem to shoot up from the ground. “That’s not it,” she tells herself. “Electricity isn’t inherent in these rocks, is it?” she reasons, vaguely recalling a middle school physics lesson. But neither can she blame her body. In its own way, it’s only doing what it’s meant to do. She slowly approaches the shoreline. Each step takes longer and longer. She imagines her foot is a hand, cupping and wrapping around the rock. That makes contact almost seem desirable. She remembers when she was a child and one day an old man came to visit. He had the bluest eyes and a kind smile. She had been sick with a particularly bad asthma attack. Her mom set her up on the couch in the living room and placed a large pillow under her legs. The old man picked up one of her tiny feet in his bony but warm hands. His grip was surprisingly strong as he pressed the knuckle of his index finger into the pad of flesh beneath her big toe. The shock of pain made her squirm but she calmed down he she heard his sympathetic voice. “It’s only going to hurt for a bit but then you’ll feel much better.” She whimpered just a little as he concentrated on each pad in turn. That night, after a long bath, she fell asleep completely exhausted and slept better than she had in weeks. She looks up at the horizon line where the sky and water meet. The water looks so perfectly smooth. One more step and she touches sand. The weight of her body leaves an imprint in the shape of two irregular ovals. Her toes feel deliciously wet and a sense of wellbeing infuses her. “What if I’ve just discovered a universal cure—just remove that layer of rubber insulation? Nevermind, that would be one helluva battle with the shoe companies.” She dives into her secret.