How to describe that feeling? That feeling of fading summer sunlight drenching your skin in ripe orange as the sun sets over the western water, the azure sky, the clouds that have become soft ocean foam. That feeling of sand crunching between damp toes, of salt water drying into crystals on bare skin. The heat of the day fading to a comfortable warmth as water droplets trickle down between shoulder blades, as the warmth of firelight dispels the approaching cold. The world is a canvas as the sky gives way to colors of passion that burn in lovely violence, and the sinking sun grows heavier with molten flame that seems to expand on that unsearchable horizon. And just as your body is soaked in darkness, that lunar mother shines like an evanescent graveyard on her restless, sleepless sea. And as laughter plays back like charming echoes over the vast expanse of centuries-old sand, there is only the need to sit and listen, to hear the endearment in a voice, the stillness in between heartbreats, and the lullaby of crashing surf.