Laying on the sand, my girlfriend's feet above my head, toes gringing the sand up and over.
My right hand follows my right arm faced down, fingertips tapping.
My left hand holds the book I'm reading.
All of these sounds become slaps onto what seems like a hollowed cavity.
I stop reaching and listen to the collaboration of my hand and her feet,
banging on the wall of the beach ground trying to get through to the empty center.
It almost seems like below us is the Earth's core, or another state only visible when the earth turns and the Sun gives it It's full attention.
I'm certain I'm not the only one who's thought about this.
Children sit on the sand building castles while the Ocean's undercurrent threatens to tear down their creation; The whole time probably feeling the impact of the steps people make as they pass by on their way down to the shore.
It's surreal, the Ocean.
The build-up from far off, the rising, the curling, and the sharp edge that stands frozen before slamming into the sand with a pulse that flatlines and crawls to reach the toes of people there just to catch the breeze.