He stares in admiration of the power of mother nature ... Watching as she raises wave after wave in all her mighty splendor. He sits wishing ... wishing that just one more person could see it in the way that he has ... But his lone presence on that beach is a testament to the superficial nature of the people in that city. No one goes to the beach no more ... Not since the color of the water became PHYSICALLY unattractive and the APPEARANCE of the sand became so "imperfect". He sits on that beach alone, with almost no school of thought that he can actually call home.
"How can the mechanism that makes the waves rise and the tides fall be of less importance than the mere color of the water?" wonders the gypsy. "Although the water might be temporally polluted and the sand physically less attractive, why should this minor superficial set back offset thousands of years of majestic bliss" ... It should not , ... it actually cannot ... But as perception has steadily become reality, I guess it just did
Rising from the beach he is set to continue his journey ... he will never settle down until he finds his Atlantis ... An eternal resting place that he can finally call home ... The lost city that his ancestors had mistakenly strayed away from. However, In his most trying and difficult moments he feels nothing ... That feeling of nothingness is actually something ... it is that thing ... And it is tragic ...
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