The weather has been absolutely insufferable these past few days, hasn’t it? Days like this make me think of spending a lazy, languid day by the beach, enjoying a paddlepop and maybe a tall glass of lemonade. Legs crossed, almost fully but not quite firmly pressed against a picnic mat laid haphazardly in a prime location, toes happily touching sand. Why is it that the sun is only bearable when one is near the beach? Is it because one is immersed fully in the moment, worries and cares left behind with the mainland? Or the negative ions hanging deeply in the air, in your hair, asking your soul out for a whirl? Or is it that you are near the sea, the constant sea, which comes and goes with the weight of the moon, full of secrets buried deep? When you were young, did you build sandcastles with plastic buckets, filling and emptying, patting and perfecting? Did you build a moat to keep the dragons at bay (with a bridge reserved for a select few)? Did you draw your name in the sand and watch as a wave erased it hastily like a petulant lover would? Or did you stand and bravely wait as the wave came for you? The water evaporates, but the salt, it lingers for a while longer.
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