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Sitting down where the Sea meets the shore it could never dream to be with, with the faint hint of curled lips, bright eyes and wavy hair was I all I ever saw her do. The curves that shaped her body were not so elaborate that they cause for lust, even with her arms around her knees, head resting atop them like the Sun sometimes does with the mountains. She was no object, not merely another tree in the forest or grain of sand by the sea, each with it's unique properties either to be used, looked at, or ignored. She was more. She radiated with the soft glow of contentment that only comes from those who knew melancholy as a past friend. Though they were not visible I often imagined scars. Not of the physical sort. The thing I remember most about the girl by the sea, is the way she would stare at it. It didn't have the absence of a day dream, nor the intent of seriousness but with a longing to capture what she knew she could not. Nobody could contain the Sea.