I remember summers on the beach in Daytona, sea-foam on the night-shore, wind on my cheeks. I can remember the taste of those days, sweet, bitter. I can never forget the salty-smell of the water lapping on the shore, the waves crashing, redoubling, riding forth again into the barren desert of abandoned coolers, umbrellas, and towels. Those were the days you could drift out to sea, forget your name, start over as you baked in the warm sun, enveloped in the sweet scent of sun-tan lotion, the…