The sea does not speak. It sounds. It makes loud what has been quiet inside us for too long. I never take headphones to the beach. I do not need to be distracted when the breath of the Earth itself is in front of me.

There is a special feeling when you stand ankle-deep in warm water, the sun burns your shoulders, and the horizon pulls you like a magnet. Not in the sense of "going far away", but on the contrary — to feel that you are standing firmly. Because here, by the water, you feel weight and lightness at the same time.

The sea teaches patience. It rolls in, rolls back, teases. But it always comes back. Even if you turn away — it is near. It does not demand attention, does not persuade. Just breathes.

I realized that near water all the "musts" disappear. Only "I feel" and "I want" remain. I don't play a role. I don't straighten my back. I don't worry about my appearance. The sea doesn't care how many likes a photo gets. It's too ancient for all that.

Sometimes it's enough for me to just lie down on the hot sand, close my eyes and listen to the water licking the shore somewhere nearby. And at that moment I'm just skin, breathing and lightness.

The sea teaches you not to get attached. The wave goes away - and that's okay. You know there will be another one. You don't hold on to what was. You don't demand that it repeat itself. It will never be the same - and that's the beauty of it.

After every trip to the sea, I don't come back tanned - I come back real. Tired in a good way. Transparent. And most importantly - not needing explanations. Because those who hear the sea whisper have already understood everything.