It was sandy, like any beach should be. It was warm, as he wanted. Everything was perfect, but there seemed to be something…off. Something missing. Or more, something that shouldn’t be there. And then he noticed the zombies…
i live in florida about 20 minutes from the beach. my friends & i love to go there during the day or night to hang out. i just hope the oil spill doesn’t ruin our beach. or anyone else’s.
I don’t really like going to the beach, but my family goes all the time in the summer. Honestly, I just want them to go so I get the house to myself, and so that maybe me and my boyfriend can finally get some alone time in my house. We really really need it.
my childhood was spent at the beach. corona del mar, lido island, huntington, shell beach, seal beach. they were so small and quaint, and not like now. i treasure those memories. and those friends.
There’s something about the way the waves crashed on the beach forever, and the way the beach never complained or even demanded a single morsel of gratitude that got me thinking about the way people should be.
the wet sand grains stick to our skin, much like your memory will adhere to my thoughts. i can try to brush it away, but days later, i will find a few more particles, over and over and over and over again.
It’s sunny, or stormy. It doesn’t matter, the waves are always there. Always flowing, moving, speaking. It’s a place to run, to think, to be. We don’t often get to just “be”. But, there, beside the waves, we can always be, just who we are – small, appreciative, people.
Cool wave rush over my entire body and it’s ecstasy. The sand is velvet. I’m surrounded by the aroma of salt water. It’s not necessarily a pleasant smell, it’s a stench really. Sort of funky like rotting crabs. Yet it’s that smell that gives me butterflies, makes my mouth curl at the corners. It’s that smell that makes me charge headfirst into the white waves. Makes me jump and twirl in the shallow water. It’s that smell that I fell in love with.
oh how i love the beach & getting tan lines from there. it’s all i could think about today but it was cloudy & gloomy on my one day off. the beach is so wonderful, so light, so freeing.
one time, last week, or maybe two weeks ago i went to the beach with a bunch of my friends! it was awesome. i actually got tan for once (that makes me sound so superficial, doesn’t it?) and i really just got to relax for once. it was a great start to the summer. but you know what’s weird? when i first got out of the car the smell of salt hit me like a gong, but by the time i left i couldn’t smell it at all!
Walking together, hands making a heart in the sunset’s shadow. Plumes of sand thrown up like feathers. I watched them walk – snapped a few shots from a distance. And envied them. So much.
So I like things to be simple.
The problem is that most things only seem simple on the outside. The beach, for example. It’s just a pile of sand with a swimming area enclosed by buoys to keep adventurous teenagers from getting pulled into the undertow.
However, the beach’s reputation for summer love wasn’t earned through simplicity, even if it lives on as such. There are complicated nuances to every encounter at the beach.
The only thing I’ve ever done at the beach is get sun burned.
I often wonder what it would be like to return there, to the beach we met at. I feel it is impossible to go, to see a silhouette of us both, fresh from high school, and the romance that blossomed between us.
Her perfume was supposed to smell like the beach, but instead of the pleasant aroma of tropical fruit, it reeked of wet sand and dead fish. She sprayed it in the office and I immediately began sneezing.
I want to do a photoshoot on the beach. Tomorrow. Crystal blue water. To match crystal blue eyes. Rolling around in the white sand. Just. So. Perfect. Warm.. breezy. I can feel it against my skin. Smell the fresh air.
The beach is my second home. I can go to many seashores, but for me there is only one beach. Hilton Head. That’s where my family is. That’s where Pappap is. It is always liberating to go. But this year, I am terrified. Who will be there this year?
this is the place i call home. home is where your heart is. if my family wasnt here i would love to call the beautiful sandy beach my home <3 thats all i could ever dream for in a perfect world
It’s sunny. And the water is shiny, or sparkling, or something. She never was that good with words. Not like him.
He would probably be finding some way to use them now, out on the sail boat where he was supposedly learning how to find his way around the ocean. But he won’t be there, and she knows this; she knows that he will give her false details about the experiene when she asks, and be reliving the other moments in his head, the one where he filled some other girl’s glass with alcohol.
I love to sit on the sand with you and look into the stars. I think that this might be my favorite place. The sand fleas are only bad if you pay attention to them.
I love beaches. I live very close to one, so does my boyfriend. Today I asked him if he wanted to dip his feet in the ocean. He said yes. I love the feeling of the ice cold water against my skin in 90 degree weather.
Sex on the beach is sexy but not ideal. Sand gets everywhere and your lips eventually become salty and dry. While in theory it’s great, the sensuality can be ruined. Yet, it makes a great story.
We threw our caps in the air, but this time they landed in the pure white sand instead of the dry grass. Everybody tore off their gowns and clothes and ran into the salty waves. Screams of joy filled the air.
Today she wanted to go to the beach, but that is the furthest thing from my mind…why would one want to go out to get sand in your clothes, oil on your feet, and sun cracking your skin early? It does not make sense! Also, I do not fit into any decent bathing suit and my skin is wiggly! Nothing says sexy like a fat back sticking out from a swimsuit! So, I do not see the beach as a place where I choose to show my body, nor my attitude!
I arrived at the beach.
The sun was shining, but I wasn’t interested. I usually prefer beaches that are dark and gloomy, dark and gloomy enough to lay out with a book and a cocktail. I try to avoid typical sunshine fun.
When I was a child the beach was a sanctuary. Now I see it as a lie, a place to be free of the steel cables that so soon return at home. So I say, is it better to have a false sanctuary and be ripped from it only to return to the grim darkness of reality, or is it more true to tattoo the ebbing normalcy of despair on your heart for only you to see?
the sand. it feels so good beneath my toes. but it gets everywhere. in my hair and i scrub so hard and i can’t even make it go away. the boy. the times i spend with him. and the one before him. and was there another before that? i don’t think so.
I love going to the beach with you. Somehow, the way the sun catches on your skin and sand sticks to you, somehow it makes me fall in love with you all over again, every time. I want to build a sand castle every day with you and swim in the ocean and just be. With you.
I’ve never been fond of the beach. it has always been a place full of too many people, too much sand, and dirty water. The only time I have ever seen a beach and thought “oo pretty” was out in California. It was an empty beach and the water was an amazing shade. Any other time and I have shied away from beaches.
How i want to see the beach ive yet to seen or gone to one yet in my life.
I plan on going to california and seeing it one day! how i want to stick my feet in the sand and water.
That really was the last time we said goodbye to the beach. The constant of those waves became sort of a home to me – or at least a shelter – and it was the perfect summer, spent with your voice, attracting me like a tourist to your depths. And no amount of late afternoon storms could change that.
The brown world blew fat with blue. My brother stole our car. He drove to the ocean. My life bloated out into the sea. Someone saw the gulls come in with fish in their beaks. The palm trees sleep.
It was sandy, like any beach should be. It was warm, as he wanted. Everything was perfect, but there seemed to be something…off. Something missing. Or more, something that shouldn’t be there. And then he noticed the zombies…
sand scrub rash-like irritation you bring,
but saltwater taffy-sweet love in addition.
you are the moon and tide.
i live in florida about 20 minutes from the beach. my friends & i love to go there during the day or night to hang out. i just hope the oil spill doesn’t ruin our beach. or anyone else’s.
I don’t really like going to the beach, but my family goes all the time in the summer. Honestly, I just want them to go so I get the house to myself, and so that maybe me and my boyfriend can finally get some alone time in my house. We really really need it.
my childhood was spent at the beach. corona del mar, lido island, huntington, shell beach, seal beach. they were so small and quaint, and not like now. i treasure those memories. and those friends.
There’s something about the way the waves crashed on the beach forever, and the way the beach never complained or even demanded a single morsel of gratitude that got me thinking about the way people should be.
the wet sand grains stick to our skin, much like your memory will adhere to my thoughts. i can try to brush it away, but days later, i will find a few more particles, over and over and over and over again.
It’s sunny, or stormy. It doesn’t matter, the waves are always there. Always flowing, moving, speaking. It’s a place to run, to think, to be. We don’t often get to just “be”. But, there, beside the waves, we can always be, just who we are – small, appreciative, people.
Cool wave rush over my entire body and it’s ecstasy. The sand is velvet. I’m surrounded by the aroma of salt water. It’s not necessarily a pleasant smell, it’s a stench really. Sort of funky like rotting crabs. Yet it’s that smell that gives me butterflies, makes my mouth curl at the corners. It’s that smell that makes me charge headfirst into the white waves. Makes me jump and twirl in the shallow water. It’s that smell that I fell in love with.
oh how i love the beach & getting tan lines from there. it’s all i could think about today but it was cloudy & gloomy on my one day off. the beach is so wonderful, so light, so freeing.
one time, last week, or maybe two weeks ago i went to the beach with a bunch of my friends! it was awesome. i actually got tan for once (that makes me sound so superficial, doesn’t it?) and i really just got to relax for once. it was a great start to the summer. but you know what’s weird? when i first got out of the car the smell of salt hit me like a gong, but by the time i left i couldn’t smell it at all!
Walking together, hands making a heart in the sunset’s shadow. Plumes of sand thrown up like feathers. I watched them walk – snapped a few shots from a distance. And envied them. So much.
So I like things to be simple.
The problem is that most things only seem simple on the outside. The beach, for example. It’s just a pile of sand with a swimming area enclosed by buoys to keep adventurous teenagers from getting pulled into the undertow.
However, the beach’s reputation for summer love wasn’t earned through simplicity, even if it lives on as such. There are complicated nuances to every encounter at the beach.
The only thing I’ve ever done at the beach is get sun burned.
The beach – it reminds me of the white blubbery beached whale of a whore that slept with my husband. Where’s my harpoon?
I often wonder what it would be like to return there, to the beach we met at. I feel it is impossible to go, to see a silhouette of us both, fresh from high school, and the romance that blossomed between us.
Her perfume was supposed to smell like the beach, but instead of the pleasant aroma of tropical fruit, it reeked of wet sand and dead fish. She sprayed it in the office and I immediately began sneezing.
I want to do a photoshoot on the beach. Tomorrow. Crystal blue water. To match crystal blue eyes. Rolling around in the white sand. Just. So. Perfect. Warm.. breezy. I can feel it against my skin. Smell the fresh air.
The beach is my second home. I can go to many seashores, but for me there is only one beach. Hilton Head. That’s where my family is. That’s where Pappap is. It is always liberating to go. But this year, I am terrified. Who will be there this year?
this is the place i call home. home is where your heart is. if my family wasnt here i would love to call the beautiful sandy beach my home <3 thats all i could ever dream for in a perfect world
So, i have never been in the beach, but it´s really cool i hope you all enjoy it!
People go to the beach to get tanned, but…I don’t get it. Is being darker supposed to make you look better or something?
It’s sunny. And the water is shiny, or sparkling, or something. She never was that good with words. Not like him.
He would probably be finding some way to use them now, out on the sail boat where he was supposedly learning how to find his way around the ocean. But he won’t be there, and she knows this; she knows that he will give her false details about the experiene when she asks, and be reliving the other moments in his head, the one where he filled some other girl’s glass with alcohol.
And afterwards.
This is true.he chased me down the beach. Behind me, as I ran through the resistant sand, I could hear the other kids urging him on.
I love to sit on the sand with you and look into the stars. I think that this might be my favorite place. The sand fleas are only bad if you pay attention to them.
I love beaches. I live very close to one, so does my boyfriend. Today I asked him if he wanted to dip his feet in the ocean. He said yes. I love the feeling of the ice cold water against my skin in 90 degree weather.
Sex on the beach is sexy but not ideal. Sand gets everywhere and your lips eventually become salty and dry. While in theory it’s great, the sensuality can be ruined. Yet, it makes a great story.
We threw our caps in the air, but this time they landed in the pure white sand instead of the dry grass. Everybody tore off their gowns and clothes and ran into the salty waves. Screams of joy filled the air.
aaaaa
Today she wanted to go to the beach, but that is the furthest thing from my mind…why would one want to go out to get sand in your clothes, oil on your feet, and sun cracking your skin early? It does not make sense! Also, I do not fit into any decent bathing suit and my skin is wiggly! Nothing says sexy like a fat back sticking out from a swimsuit! So, I do not see the beach as a place where I choose to show my body, nor my attitude!
fish fishman sand pearl
fish fishman sand pearl
I arrived at the beach.
The sun was shining, but I wasn’t interested. I usually prefer beaches that are dark and gloomy, dark and gloomy enough to lay out with a book and a cocktail. I try to avoid typical sunshine fun.
When I was a child the beach was a sanctuary. Now I see it as a lie, a place to be free of the steel cables that so soon return at home. So I say, is it better to have a false sanctuary and be ripped from it only to return to the grim darkness of reality, or is it more true to tattoo the ebbing normalcy of despair on your heart for only you to see?
the sand. it feels so good beneath my toes. but it gets everywhere. in my hair and i scrub so hard and i can’t even make it go away. the boy. the times i spend with him. and the one before him. and was there another before that? i don’t think so.
I love going to the beach with you. Somehow, the way the sun catches on your skin and sand sticks to you, somehow it makes me fall in love with you all over again, every time. I want to build a sand castle every day with you and swim in the ocean and just be. With you.
The beach. The sand. The sea. Beauty. Warmth. Sunshine. The breeze against my face. Bliss.
I’ve never been fond of the beach. it has always been a place full of too many people, too much sand, and dirty water. The only time I have ever seen a beach and thought “oo pretty” was out in California. It was an empty beach and the water was an amazing shade. Any other time and I have shied away from beaches.
How i want to see the beach ive yet to seen or gone to one yet in my life.
I plan on going to california and seeing it one day! how i want to stick my feet in the sand and water.
That really was the last time we said goodbye to the beach. The constant of those waves became sort of a home to me – or at least a shelter – and it was the perfect summer, spent with your voice, attracting me like a tourist to your depths. And no amount of late afternoon storms could change that.
The brown world blew fat with blue. My brother stole our car. He drove to the ocean. My life bloated out into the sea. Someone saw the gulls come in with fish in their beaks. The palm trees sleep.