Some people are steady, as those beautiful waves, that lap gently to and fro, on the vast expanse of golden sands
There are those, less steady, who like their music played loud, who thrive on explosions in the sky
Then there are the lucky ones, those free spirited souls who step easily from one path to the other; one day rich with laughter playing hopscotch or marbles, one day reflecting quietly, reading their latest book; or else they are to be found, drunk as lords, with friends in the pub, or asleep, on the grass verge
