The leaves on the sand swirl as the wind from the east coast sea blows, not too harsh and not too mellow. Just a nice on-the-beach kind of blow. Grasses and ferns covered most part of the un-sand land, with a few tulips of pinkish flowers emerge out of untrimmed greens, giving a fresh look to a tad too many fresh colors at once. Twigs from the branches above fall on the ground, yet again giving a sharp contrast against the green grass.

I am at The Beach. My own beach. Nothing much has changed since I came here three weeks ago. The smell, the colors, the serenity, the quietness it offers do not change a bit. Except for a shattered beer bottle on the driveway, on the sand of my entrance to The Beach.

It is freaking annoying to know that someone has come over here, and whatever they did, they did change this place. It annoys me to think that there are so many muttbunch out there that do not know how to at least to cherish this little gift from God.

You may find your tranquility in the heart of bustling noisy city. But this is my place. Well, maybe not really my place but at least there's no one over here to claim so, so why the hesitation to say this is mine?

I may need to come back tomorrow and do a little cleaning instead.

Oh and yes, I don't think about him right now. My laptop battery is going to die. I will spare the mellow bit, thinking about you, later at home, OK?

How I wish this is never going to end,
Cherating, Pahang


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