This was here. My entire life. Not a lake, not a puddle. An ocean. I always go here, with my pen and sketchbook. I sketch the setting around me and add the most details I could. Even if my parents called me to come eat, I would go in the house, grab my food, and go back out to the ocean and keep sketching. I was still holding my sketchbook. Even if the waves soak me, I would keep drawing, and I wo...