It smells like a cold day at the Island. I can almost smell the bay... the cars are the motor boats rushing by; the tin boats racing to the best fishing spots... The breeze propels the flouncy, white sails on the sailboats in the distance, whisking them across the water, mirroring the billowing clouds that race in the sky.

I miss it.

(I dreamt about the Island, but it was a dark, dark dream. One that I didn't enjoy at all. Stormy and tumultuous - frightening, really)