My thoughts are free to go anywhere, but it's surprising how often they head in your direction. It almost comes on as an annoyance. I still remember the promise of a stroll along the white sandy beach. Just the two of us. I guess that kind of memory wasn't meant for us. Being nostalgia for what we have lost is more bearable than nostalgia for what we have never had... I am glad we never had that walk, or else, the beauty of the beach will remain tainted forever. Now, we wouldn't want that, don't we?
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