As most know, I love the beach. The waves, the sand, the raging surf, the sunset, the smell of moisture mixed with salt, the shells, my bare feet grinding into the gritty wet sand before lugging heavily through the dry dust, the seagulls that bicker between each other to see who will win the crab washed up from the sea, the morning walks that relax me so much a nap is needed before lunch has even arrived, the way the salty spray turns my hair into a shaggy, windswept mess, and the feeling when gazing at the expanse of the ocean that one is so tiny compared to the universe yet God is so great to have created the world.
I daydreamed about living at the beach. The more I thought about it, the more I knew that living in that setting would remove it's magical qualities. The beach would become routine, expected and normal. Perhaps all those special wonderful feelings I currently get would day by day dissappear, metamorphosed into an every day existence. And that I could never stand.
So for now let the beach keep its uniqueness, it's unapproachable beauty, and it's magic. This will only keep the visits that much more memorable.
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