I feel like going on a cruise, a naval adventure. I feel like standing at the rails of a ship, as its turbines churn through the water, leaving a trail of waves, ruffles of water that ebb and flow, momentarily scattering the sea life within. I want to stand at the rails in a white sundress, feeling its wide hemline flirt around my knees as the wind tugs it to and fro, and flip-flops, the psychedelic pattern of which contrasts starkly against the paleness of my feet. I want to wiggle my toes as I stand at the rails, and feel the moisture in the space between my big toe and the rubber of my flip-flops of the mist that rises from the ocean spray. I want to feel the wind in my hair literally, as it flies around seemingly by its own accord, getting tossed this way and that, resembling nothing orderly, but all chaos and anarchy. Turmoil in my tresses, bedhead bedlam.
I want to look up at the sun through the lens of my fashionably oversized sunglasses, and feel its rays straining to touch my skin, and then feel my face warm up with a sunny glow as they finally do reach me. I want to stand at the rails and watch the seagulls flying spradically, swooping down to the surface of the water to scoop up an unlucky fish that will be their lunch and then rising back up again to soar among the clouds. I want to stand like this, watching, absorbing, feeling, in serenity and peace, blocking out the noise on deck. I want to stand at the rails, feet away from people lounging, playing, dancing, eating, yet be miles away mentally at a place where its just me, standing in isolation at the rails, existing while the sun sparkles, the fish swim, the birds prey, the wind whistles and the water dances.