Nothing Specific

via Daily Prompt: Specific

Her feet sink into the soft dry sand, the warm grains pressing through her toes. The waves roll in rhythmically, a rumble of whitewash as she scours the beach. Her walk is meditative yet purposeful. She breathes evenly taking in the salt air, the smell of the ocean washed ashore with clumps of decaying seaweed. Head lowered, her red hair brushing against her pale cheeks, eyes scanning steps ahead. Reaching down, letting the sand trickle away, she takes between her fingers rounded stones, glittering seashells, sponge, and pumice. She examines each piece. With a decerning eye, she finds beauty in patterns, blending of shades, geometry and structure, stray pieces of incidental artistry cut by the force of the ocean. She passes each piece that pleases her into her pocket and continues to search.


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