beachwalker

she did not know why she liked to walk on the beach... she just knew that she liked it. sand, shells, waves & foam, driftwood, and smooth little pieces of glass. sometimes there was a sand dollar or a starfish, but usually not.

anyway, it wasn't really about the stuff, although the stuff was fun to pick up & pretty to look at. no, it wasn't really about the stuff. it was something altogether simpler than the stuff... it was the moving.

well, simple on the surface, but possibly more complex at a level that others could not see. the moving of herself down the beach, through the sand & foam, propelling herself with her own power -- this so basic of abilities that humanity everywhere takes it for granted -- filled her with such deep & profound pleasure that she needed nothing else to make her complete.