I want to close my eyes and remember the sun high in the sky and the ocean before me, long and languid, inciting me to a dance. All comes, all goes, such is the rhythm of the breaking waves. These small particles of crystal and salt, chanting in a low pitch to a sudden halt. As the sand prickles my toes, a breath of warm air brushes the hairs on my back. Its short lived memory runs all the way down my spine. Somehow it makes feel alive as it unpeels the layers of dead skin in my soul. I follow the footprints and feel my lungs are about to explode. Such is the unspoilt smell of fresh water and seaweed, as it stings the jaded olfactory cells lodged deeply in my brain. I look ahead in anticipation until a seagull’s cry interrupts my thoughts. Then a splash, and my body is covered in water unceremoniously. I taste the salt and the lathered suntan lotion as I nearly cough up my vocal cords. Time has come to offer my body, open armed into the ocean, in an act of celebration. How easily we blend, in my weightless form. How vulnerable in the presence of its force. And so we engage in respect and adoration to return again and again.