The quiet explodes. Crystalline sand mesmerizes, eternally consumed and returned by the surf. But I answer a different call. Feet pound on an undulating path. Suddenly, lush jungle, a green haze. The journey is surreal. It lasts--a minute? An hour? A day? The pounding ceases. Something around my neck. I'm wrung out, draped in a gown of my own sweat. Back on the sand, there's cool in my hand, and succor for my hunger. The quiet explodes. I am reborn. Or am I only dreaming?