Have you ever tried to describe a place you've never been?

Imagined what it would look like?

Feel like?

Smell like?

I've imagined Ireland.

I'm standing in the dense, green fields of grass that surround me.

No shoes. Just the blades of grass tickling the in betweens of my toes.

I am on the edge of a cliff,

Only to stand in the spectacle that is the forcible, gray ocean.

The waves splash against jagged rocks,

Pencil point sized water droplets freeze my bare arms.

Dreary amounts of sun light reveal my Irish red hairs.

But that's as far as I can get.

I don't know what it will smell like--

Young, sprouting potatoes perhaps?

I haven't the slightest inkling o what powers the ocean possesses.

Or what it truly resembles.

I deduce that Ireland is a place to see, experience for yourself,

Not to describe for someone else so they can visit in their imagination.

It is a place that when described, it forces you to travel there,

Because there isn't any way possibe to capture what Ireland really is.