If you were dead and buried under a hundred miles of ancient shit and needed to conjure up a spell that

could resurrect your body from the pit, would you be able to utter the fragments of the purest and most beautiful memory? What would bellow from the bowels of this grave? For me, it's strolling along Marina Del Rey Beach on a beautiful sunny southern California afternoon . A soft breeze from the ocean, warm and mild against our faces. She's with me, my one and only, hand in hand. A timeless moment of splendor incapsulating us in its warm embrace. Her Tsubaki scented shampoo emanating from the fine follicles of its natural blackness. Her fair taut skin, flawless. Like her flawlessly tender face and heart, so divine and splendorous. White pants with a blue top. The angel tear, crystalized and glittery. Though simple, was the happiest memory of my life.