Often times I am overwhelmed with itchy feet. I don't know if it is the weather, the perfect blue of the sky, the white of the Dog Wood blossoms... they all scream "beach cottage" to me. I want white wicker chairs, adorned with blue and white tidal themed thick cushions. I want Biggie Best, the thick cotton canvas fabrics, stylised crab and gulls leaping up out of the surf. I want hermit crab pincers held aloft and their beady eyes leering at me from the sea foam. I want to be shin deep in the sugar white sands of the gulf of Mexico... and the six am PINK sunrises that take your breath away. I want discarded mussel shells to be thrown at my toes by an angry sea that never sleeps.
There is something in the muted fractal light, something contained within the way the shore laps its ebb and flow, something about the sprawl of sand, the way the earth appears to drop off on the horizon that intoxicates me.
I think I love monotony, predictability. The lull of repetition. The constance of the expected. I think that's why I love the sea...
So I can't wait for our date on the island with the family. In fact, it couldn't come any sooner...
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