A walk I don't know what idyllic is but this is close. A paint brush strip of blue that paints a playful sea: white sails and fish and sleeping souls. The past is past and runs its bony finger over every bump, as I look out beyond my nose at rock and grass that springs. I smell the smell of warm slightly salty skin in the crook of my arm. Life whistles and I hear it. Loose stones slip under my feet as I step. A quiet bay stretches and eases into view. Today is at the centre of today.