The sea is such a vast sensual experience- with sand going from compacted and cold to soft and flowing between toes- the foam of the water, its roar as the waves come breaking down from a height, where they hovered just moments ago, waiting for gravity and the tides to take their toll. That endless rhythm of in towards land, out with a rushing sound. Unexpected spikes of shells poking up in the sand and magical mauve, silver, navy hues of their sides look tantalisingly beautiful. The cliffs are resolute in their being, unmoving against the restless water which gradually sidles closer, as if asking them to play.
Foamy waves break gently onto the great outstretch of burned sand, a cool ripple reaching toes as they sink along, gently dimpling the shore in a momentary pattern. Shells stud the floor like stars snuggled into their velvet blanket, holding fast beneath the currents which wash over and back, over and back. Bright sunshine which sparkled now sinks, golden rays diffusing red, purple, inky hues over the clear sky. I often wish I could live by the sea. There is something so relaxing, so calming and endless about that stretch of water, whose end is difficult to conceive, such is the length of the horizon and that slight curve of the earth that takes it out of sight.