We all were sea-swallow’d, though some cast again, And by that destiny to perform an act Whereof what’s past is prologue, what to come In yours and my discharge. – Antonio, speaking to Sebastian Shakespeare, The Tempest, Act 2, Scene 1

I’ve been here before, standing at the edge of the water, wet sand between my toes. The water is cold, and I can feel the goose bumps climbing up my leg. The ocean is a dark green color, waves capped in white foam as they crash up against the beach, each wave reaching up on the sand to almost caress my feet.