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I've always been a night person. Maybe it's because the day doesn't have anything to offer to me. Not everyone can be satisfied with the warm rays of the sun singeing the outer layers of skin, and the sun has always had a draining effect on my mind and body. The night is when I live to the fullest, and I came to terms with that a long time ago.
Every summer I used to go on vacation to Panama City with my step father and company. They always had planned events for the family, and they were drab to me to say the least. Miniature golf, and swimming in the ocean were never things I really got into. I think the ocean was killed for me after I watched a special on whale mating. I just don't like idea of swimming in the same body of water that whales spill gallons upon gallons of sperm in. I did, however, find time to do what I wanted to do. That time was at night after everyone was asleep, and I would sneak out into a different world. I would sneak out into my world, and grasp what I considered to be the true tranquility of my life.

Each summer was routine. Day time with the redneck tourist, and night time with myself. They would run around trying to have family fun while I sat back and doodled or wrote in my journal. At night I would walk, sometimes run, out on the beach, and I will never forget the feeling of that pure white sand slipping between my toes like the sands of time at low tide and sunset. It was beautiful. The sand was still warm, cooling from the sun's descent under the horizon, and it was an orgasmic feeling of softness lifting up the soles of my feet. A summer breeze would blow my hair ridged, killed with chlorine, underneath a bright full moon.
One summer was different though. I fell in love, just for one night, and for the first time. The night was like any other. It was my last night in Panama City that summer. I was 11 years old, and starting to gain a little more consciousness of my feelings other than, "they're just there." I was out on the beach, and it was 10:30 p.m. The family was back at the hotel asleep, and I was walking down the beach in pair of khaki cargo shorts and a black, short sleeved, unbuttoned, collared shirt. My hair was clean and conditioned, but just blowing in the wind with no worries about anything. Every breeze that touched my head sent shocks of pleasure to my scalp through each individual hair. It must have been what the earth felt when the wind hit the tall grass and brought the hills

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