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 called 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 another 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, rather than on the sidewalk up above. 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 view from 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 didn'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.
