The heavy scent of seaweed, the foamy lather of the waves along the rocky beach, and the emptiness of the blue-and-gray landscape but for the white circling birds above them—the sensations were almost too much to bear after being in that tiny room for so long. The morning sun warmed Isak’s uncovered head. He had never been drunk on wine, but he imagined that this was how the farmers must have felt dancing during Chuseok after too many cups. - P56