I remember the Sun and the smell of salt in the air, and the warm touch of rough sand against my bare feet. I remember the sound of waves lapping at the shore, and the gentle whispers of palm trees as their leaves brushed playfully against one another.
But most of all I remember her.
She was nought but a silhouette when I first saw her, and I remember wondering at her hunched figure, the Sun casting her lithe form in shadow, making her glow a fiery orange. Making her beautiful. An angel.
I remember her looking up from where she was seated upon her haunches, gazing at me with calm eyes. I was caught, trapped in her gaze, mesmerised by the pull of her lips as she smiled, a slave to her commands as she beckoned me forward, patting the sand beside her, inviting me to sit with her. She was perfection incarnate.
I watched as she sculpted sand with her fingertips, creating patterns, stories, galaxies and oceans, each little bit of sand she disturbed with her hands creating something beautiful