Jack of Harts

I grew up on the water. Seeing it. Feeling it. Smelling it. Tasting it. Hearing it. The wind on the water is the sound of my childhood. Waves lapping against the shore is the sound I grew up to. It was the rhythm of my life. It’s all you hear in the morning before the world finishes waking up to a new day. Just the gentle lapping of water under a silent sky and a rising sun. It’s paradise.