"You memember me when the west wind blows on the fields of barley."
That phrase of a song explains the scenic beauty far better than oneself ever could. The golden tendrils of lady sun melting on top of her sister Oceana. On the boardwalk I witnessed my fair share of lovers holding hands. Sigh. This circle of life continues in a circle. Sometimes in life. Sometimes in death.
The seagulls chirp and cry as they look for bits of bread from humans. Big and small. But I shall call them she-galls, since I believe in gender equality. We are so small against the ocean.
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