This is me leaving the beach Saturday, suitcase in hand (actually it's my hat, but it looks like a suitcase, doesn't it?). What you can't see are the tears rolling down my cheeks as I think of leaving all this natural beauty to go back to life in a world of stone and steel. Is it really worth it? Can streets and buildings -- however beautifully adorned -- ever really measure up to these hills of sand and grass, this endless ocean?
Yes, I know, this is what many people feel at the end of their beach vacation. "Endless Summer" and all that. Well, I suppose I could become a surfer, couldn't I? Live the simple life in a shack on the beach. But I worry about the changes I would have to make in my personality and appearance (not to mention the danger of being eaten by sharks, or driven into a coma by too much reggae music). For instance, would I have to become less witty and acerbic? Would I have to give up most of my critical thinking skills? Would I have to wear an ankle bracelet or a bandana? (actually I wouldn't mind that part...). Learn to play hackeysack? Dye my hair a whiter shade of blonde? It's just all so complicated...