A burning British Summer lives in my heart.
Perhaps the ocean itself lives within my eyes; when I close them, I can hear the breath of the sea. The sea breeze carries a faint saltiness, caressing my face as if it were the embrace of the ocean. Walking along the beach, I can see the footprints left by swallows on their journey and the traces of time, gracefully forming a crescent shape in the sand. Not far away, a large rock stands like a giant bridge, a place where the sea and sand communicate. The sea has no time to converse with the sand; it is forever busy composing waves. With the ebb and flow, the waves gently lap against the shore, whispering endless stories through that bridge.
Distant small stones dot the bewildered sea surface, resembling lonely travelers adrift in the embrace of the ocean.
I don’t stop. Once again, the sea breeze lightly brushes my face, whimsically taking my hand and turning around, running forward like a child. We run recklessly, sweat dripping beneath our feet, kissing the earth.
“Let’s go home, let’s go home!” the sea breeze calls out to me, grinning with a smile brighter than the sun, gleaming like a piece of luminous gold.
I look up, and the towering white cliffs stand there like a boundary between mountains and seas.
The sea breeze and I sit together at the end of the world, carrying the scent of ocean currents, our palms stained with bright, moist blues and soft yellows. Will the high-tide seagulls secretly kiss the blue sky and white clouds?
As night falls, the misty and mysterious depths of the sea gradually obscure the sounds of tides and waves, leaving only the dimness of the deep sea, occasionally echoing the revelry of fish. Here, everything is permitted; permitted to think with gills, permitted to breathe with fins, permitted for skin and scales to be dyed in strange and beautiful colors. Permitted absurdity, and freedom beyond all terrestrial rules. As the tides alternate, she equally entrusts souls to creatures that swim or soar, embracing them in equal measure.
By the way, have you been there, to Durdle Door? I used to go camping on the clifftop there. I remember one summer night sitting out above that scene watching the shooting stars zip across the night sky.
No 😭 but this summer holiday I’m going to England again hahaha and maybe I will visit there! Woah what an amazing night! wish I was there 😭
Wow! That’s an impressive piece of work!
Did you do some research for that?
Plenty of descriptive work and you have used the the target literary devices very effectively.
The only part that is a little less effective is “sweat dripping beneath our feet”. Given England’s climate and your preceding paragraph, I reckon seawater might’ve been a better choice than sweat.
Actually I do not do research about that haha, only look up for some words in English to describe! Cuz I think I am quite good at doing this sort of descriptive writing hahaha, I often write descriptive poems actually! Ooo that’s sth that I do not really think of! Thanks for your advice! I did not fit into the write environment hahaha! But actually what I am writing is that we have sweat dripping down because we are running hahaha.