swoon
I have been absolutely devouring Wanderlust by Elisabeth Eaves, even though it is filling me with an awful amount of, well, you know.
The spit was a hundred yards wide, with a dirt road running most of its length. We drove out a mile or so and got out. Nirit and I took off our shoes, cracked open beers, and sat down on the sand. A full moon dappled the rolling surf. Ahmed scoured the beach for turtle tracks, finally settling on his stomach to keep an eye on the water's edge. And then we all saw what we had come to see: one of the great beasts herself, prehistoric and guileless, five feet wide under a hard, shiny shell. She lumbered up the beach to lay her eggs in the sand, programmed to reproduce against all odds. And now I felt unalloyed pleasure at the sand, the surf, the moonlight, and the turtle. Beauty is so uncomplicated to love. (From Wanderlust by Elisabeth Eaves, p. 109)
The spit was a hundred yards wide, with a dirt road running most of its length. We drove out a mile or so and got out. Nirit and I took off our shoes, cracked open beers, and sat down on the sand. A full moon dappled the rolling surf. Ahmed scoured the beach for turtle tracks, finally settling on his stomach to keep an eye on the water's edge. And then we all saw what we had come to see: one of the great beasts herself, prehistoric and guileless, five feet wide under a hard, shiny shell. She lumbered up the beach to lay her eggs in the sand, programmed to reproduce against all odds. And now I felt unalloyed pleasure at the sand, the surf, the moonlight, and the turtle. Beauty is so uncomplicated to love. (From Wanderlust by Elisabeth Eaves, p. 109)