Lost at Sea...

Today, for something different I decided to walk down by the beach, the real one, on my lunch hour. It was nice for a change of pace to go and check out something different. I walked along the cement path, for the length of the beach. It's kinda funny, when I was a little kid the beach there seemed so big. And now it just looks smaller, it's kinda funny how things look different as you get older. Anyway I walked down the path to watch along the fence where the bigger waves crash up against the rocks. I'm not totally sure why, but there's something about watching the waves crashing against the rocks. Perhaps there's something in the way that the waves hit the rocks in the same repeated motion, up and back all day long. I guess they would do the same thing at night too. And the way the whitecaps gain speed as they move toward the rocks until they eventually crash hard against the rocks. Eventually retreating to do the same thing again. In some ways it's very erotic, I think part of it is also the smell of the salt air. For some reason, I'm not quite sure why but there's something about the smell of the beach and the salt air that puts me in the mood.

After looking at the waves for a few minutes, I walked down the path the other way until I reached the other side. Here the waves are less harsh, and the rocks are less steep. So there's no fence there, and I walk up to the railing so I can enhale the sweet salty smell of the ocean. And feel and taste the ocean air wash over me, leaving it's distinct scent. Something about the experience is very exhilrating, almost totally freeing. It's very calming to stand there and listen to swishy swashy noise that the ocean waves make. When I sit down on the bench a few feet away it takes me a minute or two to hear the waves again. In some ways it's like when you find someone's heatbeat when laying down up on top of them. There's something totally serene and peaceful about it. I could have sat there all day, but alas my time was up. At least I can go back again tomorrow.