Bessy beach

I grew up believing fairy tales are real, that their are places where happiness is the way of life and good always triumphs over evil without waiting for too long, and that time never makes one grow old.
Life seems to be depicting stories I was deliberately kept from reading to preserve surprise. The long ride with a fine companion on the pillion, amidst the traffic and doubts of making it before it darkens is typically not how an convincing tale begins. But that is how mine began.
We reached quite in time and the celebrations began. We walked like vagards and talked desperately like children and shot photographs on the shore, close to the sea and before the fire flakes that streamed out of the corns as they were shown over fire.
Their was no single best activity that evening, everything was best. From circling clinging to a friend's arm to walking abreast and the gitty merri-go-round, it was absolute fun. None of us wanted the evening to end, and it din't seem to.
But, we had to go; carrying memories of yet another fantastic evening. We left taking the evening into our head and the sand in our shoes and pants