In the morning, we head from the suburbs to downtown Miami. It's nice, but you can't really swim in Miami itself; people go to Miami Beach for that. On the bright side, there are 4-level interchanges, fancy hotels, and delicious food!! We arrive at the local central park (we passed some super cool luxury neighborhoods nearby, by the way, with little canals and all that—if you have time, check them out).

We walk around. It's green and neat, but something feels off. And that something is the thirst to swim, which keeps hitting local hard, unsightly rocks and wants to be quenched immediately. Suddenly, my eyes land on a fancy hotel with a bunch of yachts nearby. We head there, only to find out it's not a hotel but an apartment building, and they only let people in if you call the owners. We turn around to leave, but then, just for a joke, we pretend to call, tell the security we've been cleared—the gate opens, and we drive in on our beat-up Ford!)

It's actually cool here, waiters everywhere, all that stuff, free drinks, gorgeous boats, but, sadly, still no beach. We get bummed out and rush to the coral reefs, which we read you could snorkel at with a mask and tube.) We think, "Corals are probably lame, but at least we'll get to swim." We drive for about 3 hours, time is running out, plus unexpected Miami traffic and road construction.

Anyway, not very happy, we finally arrive at John Pennenkamp State Park. And what do you think?? It turns out the last boat for the day left 10 minutes ago!! Damn it! The day is ruined! It's a 3-hour drive back to Miami, so half the day is just down the drain—it's already 5 PM!! Suddenly, we remember seeing a shack nearby with the coveted word "snorkelling" written on it. We head there, and, miracle of miracles!! Two alcoholics agree to take us on their cozy boat and take us out for just $30. As it turned out later, it would have been worth a couple hundred.))

There were about 15 of us. We grabbed the gear and set off.

OOOO, the corals—THEY ARE DIVINELY COOL!!!!! You flop into the warm water, and they are so close beneath you that you sometimes brush them with your belly!!! Green, blue, and all sorts of colors. In some places, it's 10 meters deep, the bottom is either riddled with canyons or smooth as a saucer with gentle ripples in the sand. There are also old ships intentionally sunk there, lying on the bottom like in some pirate story. There's a statue of Christ on the bottom, 6 meters tall, looking exactly east, where the first Europeans came from. It's considered cool to touch its outstretched, Lenin-style hand.

But the main thing is the fish!!! Yellow and black, like Beeline, green, blue, small, big, small ones turning big (like a 2-meter moray eel that appeared out of nowhere), and big ones turning small, like some inflating thing. The smallest ones grab your swim trunks and want something, while the big ones just grace you with a tail slap about 3 meters away. Just swim wherever you want for an hour and stare into the water. Sunbeams pierce the water, you can't tear yourself away, who cares about swimming!! LOOK—you hear here and there. AAAA!! And sometimes the water shakes with bubbles—someone is screaming into the water with delight)))

An hour later, a bell rings. Not for anyone in particular, just time to get back on board. We climb out. Our fins rubbed our feet terribly, our mouths are burning from the salt and sun. The boat speeds up and the wind hits our faces, spraying drops of the salty ocean. Something is missing?) Oh, right, the captain is handing out slices of fresh local orange. Lounging on the snow-white bow, swaying on the waves, we occasionally look at each other.

The sky turns blue overhead, eyes squinting from the sun, billowing clouds slowly roll from side to side. The wind tousles our hair and salts our skin. You turn away and look at the horizon line, getting drunk on the ocean. A familiar scent. Or an unfamiliar one. No, familiar. That's what freedom smells like...