Pearls in the Sand

Wearing a Ross skirt, Old Navy top, and vintage belt and necklaces.

These pictures were taken on my trip to Florida a couple months ago. Even though it's warmed up a little bit here in Pennsylvania, I find myself longing after the warm, golden sand and jewel-blue beaches and coves of the Sunshine State. The feel of the sun-baked sand squishing between your toes; the cool lapping of the salty sparkling water around your ankles. Skirt blowing in the wind, you daintly walk across the vast stretch of sand, feet imprinting in the sand, only to be washed away by the ever-rising pale waters. You bend to to examine the ribbed surface of a tiny sea shell, and your pearl necklace touches the sand. So many creatures, killed to make a necklace, so many animals ripped open to obtaine one perfect pearl. They've left their home, only to return strung onto a fine nylon thread; imprisoned from their natural element. As your stand up, seashell carefully guarded in your sun-kissed palm, the pearls lift up off the sand to settle back against the thinness of your knit top. They've experianced a taste of rare freedom; oneness with their natural habitat. But only for a fleeting moment, a brief nanosecond in the eternity of time. Once we're robbed, transplanted from our natural surroundings, we'll never truly fit back it.

It's a good thing my necklace was made out of faux pearls, though I'm really not even a clam-advocate to begin with. I guess sometimes I get carried away and make up random stories for fun. But isn't that what blogging is all about?

Mwah! Mwah!
~Adela