I find it rather strange how sometimes when I close my eyes I can recall perfectly the surroundings of my very favorite places. I live in a summer-time paradise along the coast of California. Beaches line the coast, and at night I can hear the sea lions barking in the not so far off distance. No matter how I try I can’t seem to leave this place, I can’t seem to make that next step, save money and get out.

I live in this summer paradise, but all there is in my head is a longing of somewhere far off. For me, that place is Edinburgh, Scotland. Not always, but occasionally I can close my eyes and hear the sounds of the city bustling around, remember wandering through the streets of old town with the ever-lingering presence of the history and supernatural presence of that city.

I can still picture the people there, the strange vampire-like creatures I met in obscure rock clubs, the ongoing conversations of DragonForce and ghosts.

When my eyes are open I see nothing but an endless expansion of water, the sun is shining against the ocean, different shades of light dot the waves and water that is so far away. In my mind I see nothing but black forests and green fields dotted with purple heather stretching over rolling hills and hidden castles dotted every here and there that I have yet to find.

There is nothing like laying underneath the Scottish sky in a field of heather. Just lay there and feel the sun lightly beat against your face. Lay there until it is dark and the unknown creatures come out to play. When the sun goes down, there’s nothing to do but crawl over to a dank pub and dance like a demon until they stop serving you drinks.

I was in London and wrote that I danced like a demon turned to an angel. I wrote this and closed my eyes dreaming of Edinburgh. Dreaming of something I could not quite grasp, but knew would never leave my mind.

The palm trees here stretch so far up I have to lean my head all the way back just to see the tops of them. They line the street with street lights dotted every here and there between them. They are beautiful in their own way, but somehow they have grown too normal.

Mist sprays my face from the ocean waves. I see nothing but pollution and death in the watery depths of sand and sea creatures. Almost every day I walk along the cliffs, through tide-pools taking time to pet the star fish and sea anemones. I think of the highland coo that run amuck in Scotland. I pet one in front of a white castle while a peacock followed my every step.

No matter where you are it is never good enough. You know they say the grass is always greener on the other side. It’s a fact. No matter where I am it’s never the same. Anywhere but where you live will be more appealing – especially if you’ve lived in the same spot your whole life. A dank dungeon can be more appealing than a beach lined with palm tree’s if you’ve never been in a dungeon before. All you need is to get out and find those places that steal your heart away and keep it forever in its endless expanse of land and wonder.

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