

I always liked to walk along the sea at sunset, when the waves caress the shore π and the air is soaked with salty freshness... That evening it was especially warm, and I decided to walk barefoot, feeling the sand sinking under my feet - soft and supple, like someone's hot palms... π πThe wind was playing with my dress, wrapping it around my legs, then lifting it up, as if intentionally letting the coolness get in where the sun usually doesn't reach... βοΈ I slowed down, breathing in the humid air with my full chest, and suddenly noticed how the waves were getting more and more insistent - they were crashing on the shore, flooding the rocks, leaving behind shiny, wet traces... π¦ π¦I sat down on a large boulder, smooth from the constant caress of the water, and watched the sea recede, then come back again... π Time after time. Rhythmically. Tirelessly. The water was cool, but pleasant, and I couldn't resist - I dipped my fingers into the foam of the surf, feeling it enveloping my skin, penetrating between them... π πAnd then I saw a lonely sail in the distance β΅ - it swayed on the waves, as if in rhythm with someone's breathing... And for some reason I suddenly felt hot... despite the evening coolness... π₯ π₯The sea knows a lot about perseverance... And I think I do too... ππDo you want to check it out?π