Island of Palms, SC
There is no music, only the natural sounds of water crashing on the shore, a monkey yelling, etc.
This was Mr. Monkey’s first and last time to the beach. The Atlantic was not kind to his 30+ year-old, non-replenishing fur. He survived a washing machine this time, but I’m not willing to take any more chances.
Vacation is over. Maybe we can rescue the rest of our lives.
The Recovering Legalist 
I was at the beach a few weeks ago. With all my body hair, I probably looked like a monkey at the beach, too.
LikeLike