The crackling of herbal incense inserting itself into the irritated fragments of our conscious.
Curvaceous canals curling with cautious currents covered in the remnants of a calming yesteryear.
Countless sandals and espadrilles have wandered, walked and wondered where they were before today.
Wooden oars the only disturbance; dancing delicately deep beneath the delightful depths of a Dutch landmark.
Leaving us are the weighty worries of the wicked world we once knew.
On our faces the sweet sizzle of a sensual sun setting itself on our browning shoulders.
The beautiful breeze brushing through our blood-stream and becoming a brilliant catalyst for a disappearing breaking point.
Untethered from life and loosened from the locks of limp limbs and exhausted lines.
Who knew repetition could render a ruined soul into relaxation.
After all it was repetition that ruined relaxation in the first place.
Irresistible calm where dreams wander so blissfully.
The canals of settled minds.
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