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Summer simmers in the air. The beach is calm, the sky is clear, there are only a few people around me.
I'm 20, feeling 45 having laid in the sun for so long that my muscles are languid. Sprawled on the towel I close my eyes after having read an intense chapter of a mystery novel. Bliss. So much so that keeping it to myself and not sharing it with anyone in a way doubles the pleasure and puts a wide smile on my face. Such intimate moment with oneself when one enjoys something entirely alone. One difference between keeping a joyful moment to yourself and sharing it is in that split second when your interlocutor appreciates your story and reacts to it.
Moreover, when you share a story, your listener may not understand or react to it the way you have imagined. This might take out the joy of it, whereas going through things on your own would not.
As I lay on the beach towel feeling the sun bite my skin through the umbrella I overheard a conversation going on between a little boy of no more than nine and his older brother. The little fella was sitting in the shade sifting the pebbles from the sand. His voice was not a nine-year's voice. It was deep and resembled a voice of a grown-up who has witnessed a lot.
The boy talked about simple things, but the way he spoke about them intrigued me. He spoke about nature and I started imagining he would become an environmentalist one day. His older brother lay quietly on the sand next to him and kept the conversation going by shooting provocative questions.
It has been two years now but I can still remember clearly what the little boy said. It still brings utmost joy to repeat his words in my head.
"Brother, we have nothing but the sand now", filling his small fists with the golden gravel and letting it flow like molten gold. And with a smile he added:
"It is our greatest treasure now". Ah, utter pleasure!