Ocean Boulevard
A few years ago, I spent some time living near the ocean in Hampton, New Hampshire.
It's perhaps not well known that there's oceanfront in New Hampshire. There isn't much: a little strip of coastline.
Hampton is one of the towns on that coastline. Both condos I lived in in Hampton were right off a road that ran alongside the ocean. The road is named Ocean Boulevard.
One of the condos was less than a 60-second walk to the sidewalk above the beach. This shows the sidewalk and Ocean Boulevard:
I also spent time in a different condo on Ocean Boulevard, just down the road. That one had an oceanfront view. A sliding glass door opened to a balcony overlooking the ocean:
I worked from a desk off the left-hand side of that photo. Sometimes I'd leave the curtains open to be able to look out over the waves every now and then.
Everything about each condo was pleasant: the landlord, the condo itself, and the ocean nearby.
I went for walks, usually at night, along the sidewalk of Ocean Boulevard. Waves rolled in from the horizon, each breaking with a muted sigh.
Sometimes I'd walk right on the beach: on the sand itself. The town was quiet at night. Not many people on the sidewalk. The rhythmic sighing of the waves.
On one walk, I crossed an area like this, stepping on high spots so my feet didn't get wet:
The edge of the water:
I noticed how soothing the sound of the waves is. I understood better why people pay such a premium for oceanfront real estate. It was like a little jetpack of calm.
I once read a description, written by an introvert, of something like "a day in the life of an introvert". He said something like that he doesn't so much read a book as become emotionally engulfed in a book; lost in a book.
That's how I felt living on Ocean Boulevard. More than a passing enjoyment, I felt somehow engulfed; enjoyably lost in the experience of the ocean.
