you race down the dirt path. the soft, sandy soil sticks to the bottom of your bare feet as they touch down again and again, rhythmically trotting down, down, down. through a forest, the thick canopy of leaves shining in the sun above, the wind rustling through the branches. you hear birdsong and squirrels twittering. at the bottom of the soft winding path you hear the crash of waves, skidding out and turning round a boulder to see the ocean in all its vast glory. the blue sky is painted with gentle white clouds as the water sloshes round, crashing down and receding again and again. the sand filters between your toes, damp from the tide. seagulls caw and play on the wind. the trees stand behind you, a protective guard, shielding the small cove from any troubles imaginable. take a deep breath. take in the clean, salty breeze. feel the warmth of the morning sun.