I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
(from: Sea Fever by John Masefield)
There is nothing quite like the sea. To blow away the cobwebs. To regain a sense of calm. To realise how big the world out there is and so to recapture a sense of perspective.
Oh how I would love to have a place like this to sit, to look out over the sea, to listen to the waves lapping (or crashing, depending on the weather) on the shore. This has got to be almost the perfect spot. I wonder how much reading, writing and thinking I would get done if I had a place like that. My place overlooks a courtyard. Quite a nice one but a courtyard nonetheless. Which is not the same. At all.
It’s been too long. I must down to the seas again…
What is your “perfect place” to think, to read, to write, to daydream?