Mountains and beaches seem related to me, like close-knit family members. Their features resemble each other; pristine beauty, tranquil sounds, fierce displays of power and yet soothing serenity. They both whisper into the air some of the same perfect phrases in a similar dialect. I can only hear the words when I quiet my mind. I imagine it’s similar to the angel’s language and every now and then I think they swoop down and dip their wings into the waves and brush the peaks. Even from a distance, the spot where the clouds intertwine with the mountain peaks, looks like waves caressing the shore. There’s something so magical about it. Even the light pays respect and yields to the scene, letting it decide the shades of color to display. I love it because I can’t change it. I love it because it changes me.
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