I thought the day will never come .

The day that I'll long for the beach and its musical waves.

I've been so used to lounging around it that I took it for granted .

Saturdays, with a fat book tucked under my armpit, I race off to the comfort of the coconut shades lining its endless shores.

There, I bathe my feet in immaculately white sands and watch fishermen manoeuvre tiny boats through dangerously high waves.

On days when I'm feeling really good, I'm accompanied by a bottle of creamy whiskey.

I punctuate the gush of cold wind with a mouthful of it every now and then . Here, my muse is always at its best. Ideas begin to flow in my head.

To write about the sweet couple giggling away oblivious of the waves or to photograph the wavy wall of water rising and falling majestically, becomes the debate. But alcohol has a way of solving this. It lulls my mind, redirect my attention to the tiny red crabs shuffling sideways in their hundreds ; leave me there for a while before tugging me back to reality.

Caught in this vast jungle of merciless mosquitoes by night and sun-flies at day, the aphorism that 'there is no place like home' rings more true.

I miss this and can't wait to return back to my city.

....

This post had recently been posted on my Noise account.