The Beach

The beach is a place by the sea. There is soft sand, and gentle blue waves. The ocean licks the shore, keeping it continuously wet, like a young child having their first ice cream. The water is blue, like the cloudless sky. There are rock pools, and beautiful shells. On the shore there is washed up stretchy seaweed, and dried crunching coral. In the sky, the sun shines and seagulls fly.

Further along, waves lap against rocks. Hitting the rocks, the waves are cymbals in the orchestra of the ocean. In the water, fishes and turtles swim like water gliding down the smooth mountain waterfall. Sometimes, a few waves out, there is a sandbar. Hidden in the seagrass and sand underwater there are flat starfish with their small tentacles waving around almost like they are saying 'hello'. Tiny blue fish dart around, in and out of the seaweed. The water and sky are both crystal blue, and further in the distant horizon, they meet.

Floating seagulls and sail boats dot around the calm waters in the distance. The sand, soft and warm has bird tracks in it from seagulls running around, like they are on fire, to get the last chip left on the sand. A wall of rocks starts further down the beach. The tiny crabs run in and out through the rocks, popping up every so often to surprise the children looking for them. On top, lime green grass and purple flowers grow like hundreds and thousands on fairy bread.

Before you get to step on to the soft, warm, luxurious sand, you have to face the fire burning black tar that melts the old chewing gum stuck to the ground. People gather on the sand like thousands of little sardines crammed in a little tin can. The seagulls squawk in the background with the obnoxiousness of a car alarm. You can hear the sound of the waves crashing with the power of an angry gorilla. Unwanted tourists crowded the beach leaving locals as frustrated as an old woman trying to put together ikea furniture. The ladies lay down with hats on their faces to make sure