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Assassin’s Beach

Is this what it is to grow older?

Play a game of Assassin’s Creed and marvel at the blue of the water and dream.

Of friends and beach, of time and swells to dive and jump. Salt. Sand. The rush of swirling water, the pound of frothing wave. The smell of brine and weed, pine and rosemary, grilling seabass, and white watered wine.

I play a little more, and the longing grows stronger.

I like Kassandra. A fine character.

But I want to go sit on the rocks.

Dive.

Watch the stars glitter above and the plankton glitter below.

Breathe. Hold breath. Breathe.

It will be a long time yet.

Perhaps I should just set the game to the easiest setting and enjoy those beaches some more.

Perhaps I should make do and just rent a room and sit by the seashore. Get a wet suit. Make what I can of this cold east sea.

That might be better.


3/5 — A pretty game. Climbing on rocks and ancient Greek temples is not as fun as climbing on the towers of San Gimignano.

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