I love breakfast. You sit by the ocean as it laps in and out and the soft air moves in and around you as the morning light falls silky on your bare shoulders. It's a sensual time of the deep, lustful taste of strong coffee, the perfume of waffles rising to the trees, four different shades of blue water hugging and patting the black, crusty rocks, the sound of birds chirping in the morning sun and crisp linen napkins, firm against your mouth. There is a hodge podge of people whose only commonality is that they get up at the same time of day. As soon as you settle into it, breakfast is gone. It evaporates. The day awaits.