Where Salt Air Meets Your Heartbeat

I still remember the weight of that city—the endless hum of traffic and a heart that felt like it had forgotten how to beat in rhythm with itself. For years, I was just another face lost in neon lights, until you asked me if I’d ever seen where the ocean begins.
Now here we are. The sand is warm beneath my skin, as soft and forgiving as your touch when you first held my hand on that train ride away from everything known. My surfboard rests beside me like an old friend who knows all my secrets; it's not about riding waves anymore, but about learning how to let them carry me.
I’ve left the zip of my hoodie open just enough to feel the breeze and your gaze—that steady, quiet kind of love that doesn't need words. I can see you standing there with a camera in hand or perhaps just an expression of awe; either way, it makes me feel seen for who I truly am.
In this golden hour, wrapped in sea salt air and the promise of us, I realize that healing isn’t about fixing what's broken. It’s simply coming home to a place where my soul can breathe deep, naked under an open sky.

Editor: Coco