It's a lovely day.
The air is warm and a hint of the sea is in the air, mixing with the oil fumes that always hang heavy in the harbor.
We're a bit farther from the city now, and the houses are much more spread out.
The cliffs of the island we're on are jagged and ancient, like the wings of a bird.
The sea is so calm and serene and I feel content, as if all my troubles have been washed away with the rain.
I take in my surroundings.
The sky is a mix of blue and white, the clouds roll in the high, strong winds that carry the rain to the ground.
The temperature is cool.
It's like a world I have never been in before.
The longer I look out, the more beautiful the island seems.
A different world than this one I live in, this one surrounded by death and destruction and sadness.
And yet it's beautiful.
Its beauty is alluring and entrancing.
It makes me want to be in it.
To see it forever.
And I think I may have a chance to.
There's a house coming into sight, and a figure of a man is standing on the grass, looking out to sea.
He has brown hair that is messy and windswept as he watches the waves.
A white shirt is hanging loosely over his body, and he is smoking a cigarette.
It's a lovely day.