We were in Milos, Greece. We found a quiet island where hidden corners held cerulean tide pools and jagged hills of white rocks rose up all around us. Surrounded on all sides by vast white landscapes of otherworldly crystal dust that resembled rising dunes, it felt like we had stumbled upon an eruption from Poseidon himself.
There, in the golden glow of the afternoon sun, the stories we had heard of Atlantis started to make sense. Our wild imaginations had us pretending we were tiptoeing across the surface of the moon or meandering through a free and lawless utopia. We waded in the sparkling turquoise water until finally immersing ourselves, accepting the sea’s invitation for the most refreshing skinny dip of our lives.