I shake my feet as they hang beside the bed, sand lightly raining on the hardwood floor. Once upon a time I would have shuddered at the idea of sand granules sweeping through my bed sheets but now I crave it. I crave the realisation it provides that I’m somewhere else. It’s a new day in my beautiful seaside Nook, a day I’ve put aside solely for writing. Today I’m going to embody those that have coloured our lives with classics and then I’m going to write my own.

Gliding along the hallway breathing in the silence, my limbs stretch out wide as my eyes adjust to the morning sun. Opening the doors out on to the deck the air is warm already, couples walk the shore hand in hand and Mums try to run off their most recent child. That’s what I should be doing but alas I’ll settle for an oily breakfast and a big cup of procrastination.

I’m sure I read somewhere that that’s how all the best classics are written; with procrastination.

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