A breeze wafted in from the ocean, ruffling the pages of The Demon-Haunted World. I slipped a bookmark in and set it onto the warm, eburnean sands around me. Waves lazily marched towards the shore, only to crash and dissipate once they reached their goal, their rhythmic susurrus a natural lullaby. The scent of the tropical sea surrounded me with a brisk, briny, clean perfume. In the clear, cerulean waters, two young women played a game of their own devising, the object of which, so far as I could tell, was to fail to hit the ball in such a way that you made the biggest splash and the most noise possible. I sighed.
I had to admit, I was surprised that their nudity no longer even registered as something noteworthy to me. After just a few days at the Kutná Hora Resort, I no longer felt any trepidation at being nude. No longer did I fear the other guests would point and laugh. I had even stopped worrying that I was going to walk outside naked, only to realize I had made a huge mistake and this wasn’t a nudist resort after all.