It was a time of slowness, when the days hang suspended in the warm sunshine and last well into the evening before a soft warm star-filled night lowered itself over us like soft bedclothes.
Each morning awoke with the dawn, unhurried as though the morning could wait all day for us to emerge out into the gentle green. The meadow sprinkled with the bright flowers as though some benevolent creatures of the night had spread them there for us.
Even the sea below the cliff was calm, clear and gentle as the waves whispered all the secrets of the oceans to the waiting beach. We would walk there each morning, along the already warming edge of the sea, lapping over our bare feet as we strolled hand in hand, in no hurry to turn towards the rest of the day.
It was one of those times we all think we would like to last forever, mainly because they never do. Humankind – as we know deep down – could not cope with paradise or any heaven. We cannot bear contentment, or even happiness, for too long. We know a life without the contrasts, the hardships becomes another load too heavy to bear.
So, in the end, after the holiday we looked at each other as I drove back down those roads we'd escaped along. Both eager to be free and each of us knowing we were glad to be going back to that life we'd yearned to escape from for so long.
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