Cerulean Cape t'as même voulu t'faire ma mère hein

 

annunziata kept the cerulean sea to her flank, her toes leaving delicate indents in the glittering sand as she strolled under a high noon sun. the chatter of the waves and the quiet symphony of wind played her pelt. songs strummed by nature, of hope, and rest, and freedom. she nimbly stepped as a lap of coruscating tidewater threatened to overtake her, whitecap water frothing around her thin legs.

it was not her intention to linger here, but of her travels insofar, this beach was simply by far the prettiest vista of pastel blue and faded, muted sand.