The Scent of Sand and Shells

The mist in the air filled the city with water, and the tiny drizzle drops crawled up his arms as if they were ants going up a hill. The humidity of his childhood in his nose brought the memories of August, as the cars passed around him, and the city’s noises reminded him he was home again.

The beach, hiding behind the fog, presented itself with that scent he had experienced as a child and had remained in his brain forever since. He couldn’t see the waves or the sand yet, but he knew behind that fog big waves resembling playful hippos moved back and forth with the strength only the ocean could have.

All he had to do was to close his eyes to see the water moving, and the shells on the sand reflecting the little sun on that dark afternoon. He remembered the shells he once played with on that same beach, their colorful bodies and their always different unusual shapes in his hands. He didn’t need to see them to know he was home, he was back to the beach that was his first love, the beach he would always remember.

He closed his eyes, and walked following the scent of sand, and shells, and waves, and took in all of his past. He was a child again, and the ocean had not changed.

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