It's amazing to be able to sit and hear only the crash of waves and the cries of seagulls and the wind blowing past my ears.
I'm sitting on a rock looking out at the Mediterranean Sea--the rocks are a sunbleached white, and they stand out from the gemlike turquoise of the ocean below. It's very windy, and the air smells fresh and crisp, not salty and briny like at home. I envy the seagulls that are floating around playfully in front of me.
I love it here. It is so far, far away form home, and I'm glad I had the will--and the means--to travel to the Mediterranean again. The light seems more pure, the sun more friendly, than any other place I've been to. In two days It'll be back to "normal life," my stupid car, the innane job, bills, bills, cell phones, law school applications, loneliness....but right now, I'm not worried about any of that. Because I'm sitting on a rock in the French Riviera, drinking a carton of (delicious) white grape and mandarin orange juice, smoking a Mild Seven Light that I lit with my "I love Amsterdam" lighter, and enjoying life perhaps more than I deserve to. Life is good. No, life is beautiful.
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