The beach is for me the ultimate place that my soul wants to be. I feel the tug of my salt blood to the ocean whenever I am near. A primordial self that lives in the primitive brain and that still remembers life in saltwater wants to go back. Back where the composition of blood matches the ocean�s salt water, back to the days when the moon�s tug meant life to tidepool dwellers.
I feel transformed at the beach, the sound of surf echoed in my pulse, surges in my ears and insensibly slows me down to life�s rhythms, rather than the artificial demands of a clock. I breathe easier with the fresh salt air on my face. The kiss of the raindrops mingled with salt spray is the breath of life. I must be barefoot , no matter how cold, get into the water though it numbs my flesh, must feel the ocean on my feet at least. I love to run on the beach, playing with the waves, drunk with the smell of seaweed and cool, fresh air. This is the place where I feel fully alive.
