Is shadow, tickling, gulling you from the picture-postcard

 Is there anything quite as blissful as astroll by the seashore? As you near the shore, you can make out thefaint susurrus of the surf, the whisking whispers of the waves, as the bubblesfizzle ever so silently.

 Upon passing a cumber of upturned shells, thesand greets your shadow, tickling, gulling you from the picture-postcard panoramathat lay beyond. Your scrunching toes succumb as the soggy sensation spreads ceaselessly;the silken sand coating the bottom of your feet like butter on bread. Unencumbered,your feet get the first flavor of freedom, your spirit soaring above. When you cast your eyes out to the sea, youobserve the horizon, hemmed in sardine-silver. The emerald blue of the oceansprays across, the exhaled mist forming an image clear as a beached shell.You’re blown away. The horseshoe-shaped lagoon gleams gold as a melted treasurecove, all the same under the sun. A cluster of treetops with explosions ofcarnival-green canopies, flamboyant flora and tame toucans is reminiscent of thevirginity of the island.

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The simple yet spellbinding splendor of what laybeyond sweeps you off your feet. It’s pure paradise. As you look up, the sun hits you like abrick, and your eyes struggle to regain consciousness.

Reflexively, you retreatinto the lush shade of the nearest palm tree. An umbrella from the beams, thesoaring columnar structure leads the cool colonnade, looming over the coast, animpenetrable wall of green. Your eyes, now sheltered, shine as they absorb themesmerizing magnificence of nature’s fractals, shimmering in the mist. Waving along with the wind, your ears buoyup to the waves of the water. Your ears hearken to the beckoning of a mermaid.The siesta is abruptly adjourned, as you get wind of a flock of gulls,wolf-white gulls, swooping from atop. They fly from nearby, come and gone.

Youdescry an insignificant infant of a fowl, as small as a world and as large asalone. Frolicking, the nestling prances, snuggles into your arms. You feel afleeting feeling of fatherhood, of parenthood; it’s come and gone. The tinylittle tweet springs, wobbling unto the sand, perching itself atop the tide.You follow.

 The soothing scents of the sea take yourbreath away. The moist breath of the water is accompanied by a minty aroma thatfills your lungs with the coolest, freshest of air. The perfume of sea spray,pure, unadulterated, creeps up the buds of your nose; you’re pretty muchsozzled. Your tongue can almost taste the tangy flavor of the salt-riddenperspiration of the ocean; the breeze makes your eyes water, your feet tingle. The fiery orb, now high in the sky, thronesitself on the trail of silky, milky clouds; the dragon in it bellows underwhopping billows that take shapes of castles in the royal, navy sky.

 Bluer than the sky, the waves tumbled overthemselves, ebbing away as clouds of foam floating over the mass of moving sky.You lose yourself in the rhythmic percussion of waves on sand. The whitefringed tide, with its crested top, rolls over, rising above billions ofbarnacles; granules tearing in and out of the brine. Self-centered whirlpools –intense at first, alas apathetic in sight – nonchalantly bathe your feet, feetsinking into the lax silt like a pebble in quicksand. A murk is cast upon you. You turn youreclipsed gaze upward as your intense eyes discern the silhouette of an enragedPoseidon in the milieu of ominous, dismal clouds, billowing in from far east,draining any and all traces of color. You feel your chest tighten, as your bodysenses a drop in air pressure.

The storm is here. The humidity presses down, suffocating you.The wind thrashes, howling like a wolf into the premature twilight. The skyhangs low, confining you.

 The waft of rain is heady, almost taking atoll on you. Even the wind holds its breath. The tide rises, rises, rises until itdwarfs you, unforgivingly, until a streak of hot silver splits the sky, and atumultuous clap of thunder comes close, so close, creating a gut-wrenchingdemonic cacophony, until— you wake up.

 By heaven’s grace, ’twas just a dream.Rubbing your barnacle-encrusted eyes, you breathe a sigh of relief. The prolonged afternoon siesta had setforth a velveteen crimson carpet for the sun to descend upon.

The sky is a hueof rose and salmon-pink, and in the horizon are a few thin strips of clouds,hovering awkwardly. The sea is as calm as a millpond, and thewaves as threatening as a fluffy poodle on a leash. As you look in thedistance, to your utmost delight, you see bouncy bottlenosed dolphinseffervescing, as though in celebration. As you stand on the shore, the sandtickling your toes, the sun setting beyond, the waves whispering in your ears,the trees nodding in agreement, you take a long, deep breath. Your heartflutters, so do the butterflies in your gut. You smell the sea, you feel the sky, andlet your soul fly.



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