It’s summer and I indulge myself in long strolls along wide, sunny, ocean beaches. The steady, rhythmic pounding of the waves on the beach and the piercing cries of seagulls fill my ears. Mingled with them, I can hear the rushing whisper of the gentle sea breeze and the faint buzzing of a solitary bee gathering nectar from the beach roses sprinkled over the dune. The sounds seem to fit together in perfect musical harmony: my own private concerto.

The cool breeze soothes my stinging sunburned face and back, even though the salt in the air accentuates its tenderness. The icy ocean water chases my feet and the damp sand grates between my toes when I walk. I spot a pure, snowy feather being tossed about by the wind. When I catch it, I find that it’s velvety and so fragile that it could almost slip through my fingers like quicksilver.

As I sit on the warm beach, a wave of contentment passes over me, and I become lost in daydreams.