Letter of confession of yearning

So I wanted to tell you about the ocean. Thundered as Concorde, once I felt that it would break the sound barrier. And I, I pokey kanabeto in the corner of the living room with the TV turned on, before going to sleep nego.Koskite were shaking from the powerful sound. After a while I began to read, less and less is afraid. I felt. Even hitting the waves on the black volcanic 1560 rocks I became comfortable. I wore every day new music. 1560 I started to read a book. Book with many characters and actions all united around him. The ocean seems simple but is not. A small mistake 1560 it can cost a lot, actually can cost lives.
Every morning from bedroom window looked towards Lobos * to see how big the waves do not expect that day. Yes. I wanted to tell you for the Lobos as permanently enchant me with its presence. 1560 I would wake up with it. Every day dressed in different colors. From which side to turn it upright between two larger islands. Is closer to mine. No, but the closest, even within reach of my hand.
At first I wondered 1560 how you razbeream tides. I've never lived at Big water, telling myself: it is impossible for me to razbream. It is the privilege of marine souls of those grown near water. 1560 What they are afraid of the waves and their roar. The passing days, do not even think how the ocean came under my skin. Already quite unconsciously and without any particular effort I felt his movement. Twice daily ebb tide, morning and afternoon and the tide twice - morning and evening. Once the wind will abate it means that ebb tactics. The water slowly recede and peeling off the black volcanic rocks or the bottom naparaveno quiver of golden desert sand. When the wind starts raging tide coming and paying browned rocks or play with the sand, pushed him to the mainland.
I wanted to tell you and the white dove. In his flight, with stretched 1560 krilja through darkness. I wanted to tell you about the desert hills, 1560 as if walking on the moon, not the country. But mostly I wanted to tell a love. No! No! But so much I wanted to give my love, that I was nothing other than to sink into your eyes.
Letter of confession of yearning
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