The

The Take a deep breath.

This moment is yours.

This is naked on Kashmir. There is an island I know.

I shouldn't even mention.

It's a fairy tale, you see,

where no one wears shoes and no one needs to.

The houses are hobbit-like with grass on the roofs,

and the food is fresh from a nearby farm.

Every morning the tea sits steeping on long wooden counters with toast and jams from local berries.

The crickets always crick here, and the birds call, the kind that make you stop and say, Now that is a beautiful song.

The sun is hot without a cloud in the sky, and the beach runs out for a mile in silky white sand so that when the

tide flows back in the afternoon, it heats up, warm as a bath. When it rains, you build

puzzles and paint and read, and light fires that crackle and

smell like cedar saunas.

And each night, rain or shine, you drink wine and listen to records while you play games.

And sometimes you'll lay in the long grass

and chase the stars around the sky,

heads close together with the ones you love.

Each day is the same. You do what brings you peace.

And the wildest part of it all is the island is real.

My toes are in its sand. My toes are in its sand. The The

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