Here is a picture I created with the camera and a photo editing application on my iPhone: a slight abstraction of sand, sea, and cloudy sky. Instant art, of a sort. Arrange a gilt frame around it, hang it in a gallery, and who would know I wasn't a graduate of the school of Bob Ross or some paint-by-numbers masterclass?
Thunderstorms were skirting the shoreline that day and the waves were unusually large, leaping headfirst into each other, belly flopping on the beach, then running back for more. A scene to take the breath away such as the ocean provides so often, easy to imagine being a shipwrecked sailor on a desert island, or to believe you glimpsed Neptune riding a seahorse through the undertow, or to turn around and spy a mermaid basking on those rocks. This, I decided as I took my picture, is why we take vacations.
Alas, you can never quite "enjoy the moment" at the seashore. The relentless breaking of the waves keeps dragging you unceremoniously into the next second. You are only too aware of the ocean's complete indifference to your efforts at momentary transcendentalism; that the sand doesn't give a crushed seashell about your mythopoetic notions; that somewhere out there, just out of reach, a lugubrious octopus drapes its tentacles over a sunken treasure chest that can never be yours.