Favorite Place/Least Favorite Place

Favorite Place:
I'm sitting next to the stream, hearing it babble over the pebbles and cobbles so happily. It is low tide and the sea breeze smells pleasantly of salt and kindly blows the hair from my eyes. The reeds dance with it and make the crickets sing along. Combined with the sound of the waves caressing the soft beach sand, a symphony is created in my head. The rocks are exposed by the low tide and the crabs are scuttling along the shore. The sun sets behind the bridge and sky scrapers and turns the blue sky to a vast rainbow as two swans float by on the waves.

Least Favorite Place:
I'm trying to enjoy the pleasant nature of the beach and finding that nature is not pleasant at all. The low tide smell of sun-baked fish carcasses invades my nostrils and my nose wrinkles into a most unpleasant form. The sand is perpetually stuck to my skin no matter how many times I strike my hand over it to get it off. The gnats love the smell that I hate and play games flying in and out of the cavern of my ear, toying with my eardrums with the electric buzz of their wings. The dingy stream water percolates over the slime covered rocks, carrying the pond fish to the ocean where it will die. The salty breeze makes my skin like a desert; dry and cracked. Now the sun is setting, turning the cloud-filled sky from grey to murderous red. I'm going home.