B (7:04)

Taylor has left her beach house and is making her way to the shore. Having just arrived for her vacation, she could not be more thrilled for this week of relaxation. While many like to come up with detailed lists and plans, Taylor enjoys the art of doing nothing. She does whatever comes to her in the moment. Wherever the day takes her is the best kind of plan, she thinks. Taylor walks barefoot along the wooden planks that lead to the beach. She intentionally chose a spot that isn't known for its tourism but for its seclusion. It's the beach of her childhood and many happy memories. There are hardly any other people here right now, and there weren't many shops open when she drove into the town. Seeing this has buoyed her spirits and made her that much more excited about this trip. The wood is surprisingly smooth under Taylor's feet and the warm rays of the afternoon sun on her skin are a welcome reprieve after being cooped up in the car on the drive here. The road trip had its own kind of release, but arriving at the beach was the ultimate way of letting go. Just as she crests the hill overlooking the ocean, that distinct smell of sand and sunscreen hits her. It is the best scent in the world to her right now. A couple strolls by and waves at her. Taylor waves back and stops to take in the wondrous sight before her. She has been waiting A long time for this moment. So she lingers, gazing at the stunning view. The blue sky is filled with clouds which look as though they've been perfectly placed. White tufts are etched across the sky in what almost seems to be a pattern. The colors are astonishing too. The white sandy beach alongside the emerald green and blue water. The waves pull themselves back into the ocean, almost teasing before gaining momentum. Then they're propelled forward until they crash on the shore. The familiar white crest of the breaking waves looks like fingers caressing the sand. Taylor watches as the waves are sucked back into the sea before that incredible title show is repeated all over again. The rhythm feels therapeutic. Watching the waves come and go with their sheer power and regularity is hypnotizing to Taylor. And stepping on the sun baked, glittering sand brings with it a piece so profound she feels it all the way in her soul. It is one of the best feelings in the world. As she watches the ocean and sees how far it extends out into the horizon, Taylor reflects on just how ancient this body of water must be. It has been here for millions and millions of years. She wonders who was the very first person to step onto the speech and the first to go wading into these waters. Then she wonders what their story might have been. Maybe it was a person who stumbled upon this shore after a long, arduous trip. Perhaps they had been traveling far and wide across the continent in search of a better life. After all, Taylor muses, beaches can provide so much joy, the kind that changes a person. In her mind, humans weren't made to be confined to just one area. They were meant for so much more than that. Humans were made to travel, to encounter places of enormous beauty and possibility. They were made to experience the whole spectrum of nature, to explore the farthest reaches of the planet, and to see and do new things. For Taylor, life is the pursuit of happiness and joy, and it should be explored on every level. Curiosity and adventure, or what it's all about, she thinks. Taylor makes her way towards the shore, savoring the warmth of the sand between her toes and the tickle of the sea breeze. There isn't another soul in sight now. This is vacation, she thinks. Taylor reaches the water and walks until it is up to her ankles, then stops. It's just the right temperature. Warm, but not too warm. The waves come in, the water rippling around her ankles. The ocean is never still, she thinks. This thought takes her back to her school days. She remembers learning why the ocean is always moving, constantly in motion with its waves and currents. Ocean water moves in myriad Ways There are the waves that crash and curl on the shore, while in the deep ocean, big conveyor belts of of water flow for thousands of miles all around the planet. Taylor turns her face towards the brilliant sun. She recalls that both the sun and moon exert a gravitational pull on the earth, creating the tides and currents of the ocean. Taylor is naturally curious, and when it comes to the ocean, she knows quite a bit. Feeling the wind ripple through her hair, she thinks of its integral role in the creation of majestic waves. The smallest waves in the ocean are known as ripples or capillary waves. As the wind blows across the surface of the water, they start growing. The stronger the wind, the bigger the waves become, reaching great heights. At times when the waves reach shallow waters, like where Taylor is standing now, they will start to curl, then break. It is fascinating, she thinks, how the elements combine to create such beauty and movement. And waves don't transmit water, but energy. The energy passing through the water is what creates the waves, making it move in a circular motion. So, she thinks it is energy that the waves travel by, but it is the wind and gravitational pull of the sun and moon that caused the waves in the first place. Taylor has always enjoyed understanding how the world works. Even on vacation, she smiles to herself. Eventually, Taylor decides it's time to move on. She takes one last look across the brilliant water, her gaze lingering at the point where it meets the bright robin blue sky. It is so beautiful that she finds it hard to peel her gaze away. But soon her feet are taking her along the shore. The beach is empty and the sand is littered with seashells almost everywhere that she looks. As she walks, Taylor can't help but bend over to sort through some of them. She's eager to find and keep the pretty ones. And if she's really lucky, maybe she'll find a shark tooth. Ever since she was little and her family took regular vacations to this exact beach, shark tooth hunting has been one of her favorite things to do. As Taylor sifts through the sand, she remembers with fondness that there was even a contest in town every summer. One year, her brother found the largest shark tooth the town had ever seen and even won a free pizza for it. Taylor was immensely jealous at the time. The memory makes her chuckle.

A (21:27)

Now.

B (21:30)

She wants to find an even larger shark tooth than the one her brother found to take back with her and show him. Scanning the beach, there are so many clusters of seashells. When Taylor spoke spots a prominent grouping, she stops and squats down, taking her time with this assortment she picks up a large, pale pink and white conch, her fingers brushing over its ridges and smooth parts. Then she immediately lifts the shell up to her ear in hopes of hearing the sea. This used to be a favorite pastime. There's nothing quite like the magic of hearing the sound. Sound of rolling waves coming from within the depths of the shell. Taylor lowers the conch to further inspect its spiral shell and the long, tapering end, called a spire. She admires its intricate shape and the beautiful colors and patterns that are etched across the surface of the shell. It truly is an incredible object with so much history. Once, it was inhabited by a sea snail, and slowly, over time, it found its way onto this beach. Lying here and waiting to be discovered, Taylor thinks of how many people have done this very thing, stumbling upon a conch, bringing it up to their ear, and hearing the sound of the ocean. From her own research on the subject, she knows that there have been many different theories about this sound. According to one theory, the sound comes from the listener's blood, echoing as it rushes through the blood vessels in their ear. However, this has been disproved as exercise increases blood flow. You would expect the sound in the shell to change after a person has exercised, but it remains the same. Others believe the air flowing through the shell generates a whooshing sound. But that theory was disproved, too, after being tested in a soundproof room. All in all, the most probable explanation is that the wave, like sound, is created by ambient noise. When you hold a conch to your ear, it captures the noise around you, which resonates inside the shell. This produces the distinct sound that resembles ocean waves. Essentially, the shell acts as a resonating chamber. Conches are fascinating to say the least, Taylor reflects. They've been used across many cultures and all kinds of ways. In ancient Greek mythology, the conch was the symbol of Triton, the God of the ocean. He was known to blow a twisted conch trumpet in an effort to either calm the waves or increase their collective strength. Taylor recalls that conches have also been used in a religious or ceremonial context, such as in a call to prayer. Many of the ceremonial conches unearthed from the past have been resplendent with bright colors, elaborately decorated with precious stones. These beautiful objects have stood the test of time, and even today, conches are still considered sacred in some cultures. Taylor gazes at the object in her hand in a whole new light. In another part of the world, this shell could be regarded as a treasured item. And long ago, it might have been used as a call to summon fighters to battles. But in this moment, the shell is hers to study and enjoy. Taylor lifts the conch up to her ear one more time to hear that unmistakable sound of waves crashing upon the shore. She decides to take it with her. Her as a souvenir. Maybe she will even modify it and use it as her own personal wind instrument. She remembers from a documentary that if the end of the spire is removed, it's possible to blow air into the shell through the hole and produce musical notes. The sound can be loud and dramatic. There are even expert conch trumpet players that use them in musical performances. Although a conch lacks keys or valves, it can still produce beautiful and varied sounds when played as an instrument. Furthermore, a player can modify the sound by embouchure. This is the control of a sound through the facial muscles and tongue, as well as by the shaping of the lips. Taylor slides the conch into her knapsack. Then she continues to rifle through the countless numbers of shells on the sand, still hunting for a shark tooth to bring back with her. After a while, Taylor decides to take a break from her search and continues down the secluded beach, immensely enjoying the time to herself. She almost forgot how freezing it is, being here when it feels like the beach is all hers. A flock of seagulls flies overhead, squawking. They're chattering can be heard long after they have passed by. Taylor pulls out some seed to feed them. She packed it just in case, but the seagulls don't turn around. Oh well, she thinks as she returns the seed to her jacket pocket. While she walks, she continues to scour the beach for any treasures. And as she bends over to inspect some shells, a large shadow appears, seemingly out of nowhere. The unmistakable shadow of wings. Taylor looks up, and right in front of her, standing on the sand, is a lone pelican. The bird is easy to recognize, with its characteristic massive bill and famous throat pouch. But she has never seen one so close before. The pelican is beautiful, with its broad wings, long slender neck and pristine white body. It even seems regal. The bird regards her curiously, its eyes tracking her every move. So she carefully retrieves the seed from her pocket and holds it out towards the dignified creature. Much to her surprise, the pelican chuffs at her before turning its head. It's clearly not interested. Once again, Taylor places the unwanted bread back in her pocket. Just. Just as she is wondering what the diet of a pelican consists of, it takes to the air. The pelican soars over the water before suddenly diving Straight. It comes up rather quickly while gulping down a fish. Mystery solved. Taylor laughs to herself. She dusts the sand off her shorts and stands up again. Then she resumes her trek down the beach, leaving the bird to its meal. As Taylor walks on, she looks across the water. In one spot, the water seems to be moving in the wrong direction, the waves going more backward than forward. She strains her eyes to see what is happening there. Her efforts are rewarded. Almost immediately, she spots the telltale signs of dolphins. Big splashes and intermittent bursts of spray coming up out of the water. A whole pod of them suddenly breaks the surface. Six or seven dolphins arc gracefully out of the water and splash right back in before doing it all over again. Their smooth, rubbery skin glistens in the sun. Then Taylor spots a few baby dolphins called calves, following their mothers in the back. And they might be the cutest things she has ever seen. They splash and spiral through the air with what look like huge grins plastered on their faces. Taylor watches the dolphins frolic in the water. They continue down the shore, almost keeping perfect pace with her as she walks, her mouth gaping open at the sight. It is spectacular. A dance that seems more choreographed than spontaneous. The dolphins indulge themselves in the water, the ocean spray reflecting the sunlight. As she watches the dolphins fade into the distance, Taylor reflects on just how wonderful this day has been. She couldn't have planned for a better one. Reaching the pier, she looks out over the next stretch of beach before her and what she finds surprises her. She was expecting to see the usual empty beach, but instead. Instead there now appears to be a house on stilts extending out into the water not far from where she stands. She is almost certain that it will wasn't there last year. Curious, Taylor continues walking until it is right in front of her. A set of old, worn wooden steps leads up to a boardwalk which goes out into the water. And next to the steps is a whitewashed sign that reads Sea time is tea time. All guests are welcome. Taylor is growing more intrigued by the second. The wooden steps look as though they have been here for ages. How did she not know of this place before? The closer she gets to the house, the more she realizes just how beautiful and natural the place is. As if it has been here the whole time. Determined to find out its story, Taylor walks up the stairs and onto the boardwalk as the sun begins to lower in the sky. We'll leave Taylor here for now and join her again soon for the next part of the story. Good night and sweet dreams.

C (72:42)

Sa. Sa. Sam. Sa. Sa. Sa.

D (124:37)

Sa.

C (135:15)

Sa. Sa. It. Sa.

D (183:46)

Sam.