The boy stood on the quiet beach, alone and tired. The sand
was warm and pleasant under his feet, the air caressing him.
Occasionally, a daring wave would reach him, and then
subside reluctantly back to the cool sea. Clear blue water
reflected the clouds passing lazily through the even bluer
sky.

The boy watched them, his eyes tracking their movement. He
did not know how long he was there, if indeed there was a
time before this. A gentle breeze played absentmindedly with
a few sand particles, but soon subsided and left to find a
decent wind it could join forces with. The boy waited. The
sun moved along its path like it has always done, aiming for
the distant mountains. Nothing changes, thought the boy as
he closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth penetrating him. He
could hear people around him, talking, laughing. He knew
they were there, felt their life forces created and
destroyed. Once, he thought it would work out. It had seemed
impossible for it not to. But no longer.

The boy opened his eyes, blinked - and the quiet beach was
there again, was his alone. He stepped forward, struggling
with himself. Another step left a small footprint in the
sand, and then he was walking, crossing the beach, stepping
onto the water. At first, out of sheer force of habit, the
water supported him, but only briefly. The Sea of Galilee
accepted him, and Joshua was finally home.