Swell.

Today I answered some primal call.
Found myself looking at the sea.
I can never get enough of this big ocean loud and rough
With the sighing sifting melody.

(J. Harrod, "Waiting for my day")

If I could live anywhere, it would be where I could hear & see & smell the ocean.

To feel the breeze off the water as the sun goes down--to watch the birds and the ghost crabs skitter down where the water has made the sand like glass--to stand on a rocky, thorny shoreline between dives, feeling the sun shimmer off the water and my skin--the sound of the waves slapping against the boat hull--the sense of distance and danger--even the taste of salt water on my tongue--the sun going down over the water, how surprisingly quickly it moves--finding a cool piece of driftwood or, even better, sea glass--the gritty salty sandy stiffness in my skin on the boat ride back to the inn--watching the phosphorescent constellations coming off my partners on night dives--wearing as little clothing as is necessary--knowing I'm standing at the edge of something wild and unbelievably powerful--