There's something about a beach that helps me reflect more deeply. Maybe it's the water. Perhaps it's the sound of waves crashing on shore or grasping a shell at low tide with grains of sand washing across my toes. A beach can symbolize hope and the vastness of possible. I'm at home and it feels good. When I play music here there's no amplification. It's just my vocal chords unadorned and a guitar strummed or strings picked with calloused fingers. Melodies visit and sometimes they stay. My writing pad is never far away and yesterday I even got reacquainted with Simon & Garfunkel's 1964 masterpiece, Wednesday Morning, 3 AM, the one where on the cover Art Garfunkel leans casually on a NYC subway post looking dapper while the shorter and brooding Paul Simon stands beside him with a guitar and left hand forming an A minor chord. They both wear suits as a train whizzes by. This album, in vinyl of course, introduced the world to "The Sounds of Silence" -- one of the greatest songs of the 20th century..."people hearing without listening..." It's a successful day if I work harder to make Paul Simon's words ring a little less true.