I want to live by the sea.

Perfect road trip weather took us to the southern coast, just outside of the hustle and bustle of the city of Brighton. Shoreham-by-Sea, to be exact. How dreamy is that, to have the name of a town literally tell you that it's on a pebbly shore. A sleepy fisherman's village, a lonely beach walk, ancient streets with fairytale perfect houses...

The clear sea breeze as we approached the coast was different, this time. Unlike my childhood vacations at the Jersey Shore, there was no putrid salty air that  hit you as you rolled down the car windows. It was the cleanest, freshest, most beautifully slightly salty gusts that just seemed to say "welcome home." I heard the distant familiar jingle of an ice cream truck, saw the neat little rows of white bungalows; derelict fishing boats sat in the mud while their colorful paint peeled in the late summer sun, its rays echoing off of the white limestone cliffs. Every local restaurant boasted 4 or 5 menu items: the catch of the day, in glorious simplicity. In the distance, the shrill cry of seagulls chasing a fisherman's boat back into the harbor, and the smell of fresh seafood cooking seemed to emanate from every house and pub. 

The deserted beach was littered with the most curious variegated color pebbles and empty salmon pink shells. I was overwhelmed with the constant desire to stop and paint... everything. A few hours flew by, and we were on our way again... but I know I will someday call it home.