Sentences with phrase «bringing sea and sand»

Grand Cayman's first - ever lifestyle resort is a state - of - the - art wonder on world - famous Seven Mile Beach, bringing sea and sand into view the moment you arrive.

Not exact matches

Cooper made made tracks in the sand with his Monster Trucks and brought them a little too close to the water (RIP to the the two trucks who were washed out to sea), Kate never left the water where she jumped the incoming waves and Lauren split her time between hunting for shells and and playing in the surf.

«For some people it brought back memories of being part of a sea - faring family, for others just the process of digging sparked memories of a previous interest in gardening and some said how touching the sand reminded them of childhood seaside holidays,» Cutler explains.

Sea, sand and, of course, stunning girls in bikini bring happiness and joy to a lonely man's life.

Boasting an interior palette that brings out the earth tones and blues of the sand and sea, this one - bedroom Kauai condo offers a cozy retreat and classic charm.

1.15 - Flying out to sea over the coast line, over shallow, murky water, dominated by mud and very fine sand brought to the sea from the Belize River.

The might of Burj Khalifa or the serenity of the white sands of the Jumeirah beach; Dubai has the best of sea, sand, and sun, and Rayna tours brings to you all of its best offerings in a single bouquet of its worthy packages.

Las Palmas 12 not only will bring you direct access to the sand, but you will be absorbed by the views of the sea, waves» lullabies, sunset views, and spacious living space.

Recently renovated hotel rooms feature professional décor schemes designed to bring the colors of the sea, sand, and sunshine into your room.

, you are lying on the floor of your place looking up, a small draft runs through the room, between the door and the window, and all things seem perfectly still, wind only disturbs concrete in imperceptible ways, or it may take millions of years to be noticed and, as the air runs through the space, all your plants move and all is animated and all is alive somehow, and here are the thoughts of all men in all ages and lands, they are not original with me, and that wind upon your plants is the common air that bathes the globe, and we have no ambitions of universalism, and I'm glad we don't, but the particles of air bring traces of pollen and are charged with electricity, desert sand, maybe sea water, and these particles were somewhere else before they were dragged here, and their route will not end by the door of this house, and if we tell each other stories, one can imagine that they might have been bathed by this same air, regrouped and recombined, recharged as a vehicle for sound, swirling as it moves, bringing the sound of a drum, like that Kabuki story where a fox recognizes the voice of its parents as a girl plays a drum made out of their skin, or any other event, and yet I always felt your work never tells stories, I tend to think that narrative implies a past tense, even if that past was just five seconds ago, one second ago was already the past, and human memory is irrelevant in geological time, plants and fish know not what tomorrow will bring, neither rocks nor metal do, but we all live here now, and we all need visions and we all need dreams, and as long as your metal sculptures vibrate they are always in the Present, and their past is a material truth alien to narrative, but well, maybe narrative does not imply a past tense at all and they are writing their own story while they gently move and breathe, and maybe nothing was really still before the wind came in, passing through the window as if through an irrational portal to make those plants dance, but everything was already moving and breathing in near complete silence, and if you're focused enough you can feel the pulse of a concrete wall and you can feel the tectonic movements of the earth, and you can hear the magma flowing under our feet and our bones crackling like a wild fire, and you can see the light of fireflies reflected in polished metal, and there is nothing magical about that, it is just the way things are, and sometimes we have to raise our voice because the music is too loud and let your clothes move to a powerful bass, sound waves and bright lights, powerful like the sun, blinding us if we stare for too long, but isn't it the biggest sign of love, like singing to a corn field, and all acts of kindness that are not pitiful nor utilitarian, that are truly horizontal as everything around us is impregnated with the deadliest violence, vertical and systemic, poisonous, and sometimes you just want to feel the sun burning your skin and look for life in all things declared dead, a kind of vitality that operates like corrosion, strong as the wind near the sea, transforming all things,

Wave House Sentosa has finally brought to Singapore the ideal beach scene that it has always been lacking — the sun, sand, sea and never ending surf.

Or bring a more wistful feel to your calming scheme using colours and textures of a stormy seascape as inspiration: subtle pebble shades of pale grey, sand and stone; the rough warmth of weathered wood and warm linen and fresh hues of sea, sky and cloud, then finish with the delicate beauty of pearlescent shells.