I’d never seen a grown man cry like that before, so unself-consciously, so unashamedly. I didn’t know if he was crying for what he’d lost, or for what he’d never had, but there was a beauty in his tears that moved me more than I could ever explain with words – a beauty in the honesty of his sadness, in the grace of it’s purity. It was holy water raining down from the clouds in his eyes, falling to the sand then being carried back to the source from which it came – his blessed sea.
-Tiffanie DeBartolo
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