Even before I rounded the corner at Kirra Hill,
I could smell the briny salt spray. As I reached the crest, I could feel the spray upon my face. So thick was the briny mist, it hung heavy over the ocean and shoreline and across the hilly terrain...puffs of white like fairy floss, cotton wool, all things magical and mystical.
Twas indeed an ethereal sight.
Upon reaching the shoreline, I became immersed in the white puffs. I could taste the salt on my skin. My feet sank in the wet sand, gulls flew low, the sea-fog hovered close.
The sun had begun it's descent and golden rays cast out through bulbous white and gray clouds.
Moist sand glimmered and shimmered in the sun's glow. Cloud shapes reflected upon the shimmering surface of the sand.
All of my senses were caught within all-things ethereal.
As I walked on around the point, the shoreline changed, once a sandy expanse, it was now a mass of and ancient rocks. Clusters created rock-pools of shelter for sea-life. Craggy-rock surfaces became art-works with carvings and markings upon their coloured surfaces like age-old secret codes.
Little remains the same. This beach of mine, is an ever-changing place of delights. I forget about time, yet reminded of the eons of time.
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