I keep coming back here, back to the scorching warmth of the sun, penetrating my skin layer by layer, looking like graphite with diamond freckles sprinkled on top. Back to the turquoise waters, reminding an eight year old that school is almost over, that long division is somewhat irrelevant when he could be building castles and covering his undeveloped body with sand grains instead. Back to this crispy air in spring, smelling like ice-creams, and sea salt, and strawberries, and sweaty kisses between young lovers. I keep coming back here. Here, where the people are strange, weird, but kind, strangely kind, whose heart is convinced that here is the most beautiful place on Earth, even though they've never really been anywhere else. Here, where the clouds are intermittent, and the sky is blue, like it should be. Blue, not a murky shade of grey. Blue, infinite, filling within the lines of my soul, like that same eight year old who has finally gotten the hang of his overused colouring book. Here, where time is slow and deep breaths are not few and far apart. I keep coming back here. Here, on this tiny island I call home.