Chance meeting.

And so it began.

The frosty morning, like something sharp, pricked the laziness and caused it to crackle. The pieces, delicate as eggshell, started to fall and tinkled to the ground like crystals falling on stone.

Once in a while a brief encounter, gentle as a whisper, as if it was almost not there, can bring change. Like magic, like the touch on bare skin of just one ray of sunshine.

And now, once more, a place often dreamed of, beckons. I can smell the salt and grass as though they somehow know me.