Tarriance never experiences the awe of new adventures as waiting and living are oft not friends to each other.
Spray of sea, scent on wind, and hue of sky–what they mean to a hearted being cannot be understood by any artilect’s binary sense, no matter how precise or well-defined.
Self cerebrates dreams about the waves, remembers thoughts about the clouds, and feels hope about the horizon; breaths and temperatures against face awaken the now, whose meaningfulness is consequent also of the reflections it inspires.
Exotic escapades are not out of reach to those without access to an eggbeater; picturesque places exist outside every door, down ever street. And, when daily images drown the soul, mind can pull either uplifting memories or spiriting scenes–to calm, to please, and to motivate. : )