Standing at the threshold of worlds
Seeing a beach from a city always kind of unsettles me because of the way civilization seems to simply stop once it hits that barrier. When you look behind you and see towering buildings or bustling cars, it’s something you know. When you look before you and see an endless expanse of nothingness, it feels like that’s where the world ends.
Watching the sunrise from a beach feels special for this reason.
You get to escape from the normality and stand on the brink of another world, where the only noise is the rhythmic crashing of waves and the only sensation is sand. It brings you back to nature and reminds you that these are the things you were born to feel. And being one of the first people in that part of the world to see the sun light up the sky makes you realize that your problems are smaller than the world is.
One minute the city is glowing; the next, the earth is glowing. Gradually the stars begin to fade from sight, one by one, until they’ve all disappeared, as if to say, “Okay, it’s time to stop dreaming and go about your day as normal.” But I don’t want to go. It’s serene here, under nothing but sky. I feel like I can find answers here, to questions I didn’t even know how to ask. Don’t go, stars; I still have more questions, and you seem to be the only forces who have answers.
The orange glow of the street lamps that looked gentle in the dark now appears fiery against the soft blue sky coming to life.
Watching a sunrise means you get to see colors that not many other people see. It’s a whole other side of the world that’s right beneath our noses every day, and accessible by anyone anywhere. Why don’t I visit more often?