It’s not often that you come across a sunrise-gold beach. That was our privilege as we gazed out at the slothful sea. Ebbing ever so gently, it looked at peace in its Neptune-blue gown. The beach was so soft, it felt like we were walking on a blanket of candy floss. The shimmering sand swept around in a scythe of beach, hemmed in by towering cliffs. Far out to sea, streams of pulsing light saturated the surface with a golden haze. It was confessional-quiet and this Babylon of beaches felt like paradise. The horizon seemed to be stitched with a line of silver.
A flock of noisy seagull were squawking over our heads and squabbling about something. They wheeled and arced, their raucous cries ringing off the cliffs. There was a strange glamour to their timeless call as they soared between the wands of God-goldened light. A single yacht bobbed and lolled in the incoming tide, like a toy in a bath. Its lights winked saucily as the wave-crests rose gently. The siren call of the sea was soothing, the wave music welcome. The rising sun laminated us with warmth and a carnival of smells drifted towards us from the hotel kitchen. We had coal-fired lobster for breakfast and it tasted as galactic as the hotel’s name: Heavens Hideaway.
For much more of the above, please check out my book Writing with Stardust which is now available on Amazon. You can also click any of the book images below.