The best part about sunrises:
the anticipation of the sun’s arrival over the horizon as it begins to pink the sky and illuminate the darkness. The waiting is the best part. That half-asleep dreamlike state as you wait and feel the breeze kiss your face. When that orange brilliance suddenly cuts though the earth and sky, you know you should look away because everyone knows not to stare at the sun, but you cannot pull your gaze away. It is something we rarely get to see, unlike sunsets, which we tend to catch daily. Does scarcity make a thing more beautiful then? More worthy of love and admiration?
I glance over at the seagulls scuttling around me and then down at my feet where a smattering of ladybugs are trying to take flight under the weight of sand grains. They are here for every sunrise; what a priviledge. Local natives where I am merely a tourist, set upon their beach with voyeristic intentions and a camera in hand. I suck in the cool air, trying to welcome the entirety of this new day into my body, awash in the light of the dawn.
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