I remember the days, sitting in an old hut looking out across the North Sea lost in my own daydreams. I would escape a house of noise and walk down to the solitude and peace that allowed me to step inside myself without interruption or worry from those around me. The smell of the salt and the sounds of the waves whilst I cuddled into my jacket and just sat staring out into the world and watched the wildness of the waves beyond me. It was there that I would dream of the future and be excited about the never-ending prospects that it held.

The friends I had who knew me well understood the need I had to loose myself and seclude myself from the crowd from time to time but they also knew when to drag me out and to make me laugh. As well as the seclusion the hut holds memories of laughter and silliness of my teenage years. My first love, my best friends and torture of being an individual in a sea of popularity.

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I still go back to that hut when I shut myself of from the world as an adult. I do not need to leave my room, the sounds and smells and textures are ingrained in my memories. The rising sand dancing as the wind lifts it into a spiral during a storm. The crispness of the snow and god awful smell of dried seaweed during the summer months. Each of these memories will stay with me. Each giving me a path back to friends and loves that are now long gone. That little hut sitting on the edge of the dunes above the rock pools and the North sea. https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/beach

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