Leaving the rocky Rhode Island seaside, we stepped inside a storybook, and found ourselves treading through a field, to a path. We followed it, our surroundings getting greener, ferns and moss popping up all around. I heard the slight trickling of a stream, and walking alongside, we came to a neat square patch of moss, complete with two handles. Lifting up the moss door, we were met with bubbling earth, filtering out the clearest, coldest spring water.
We drank the water by cupping our hands and pouring it into our mouths. After the day's heat, it was even more appreciated, and with the ocean salt still remaining on our skin, we washed our faces and even dipped our heads under. It was a rush, having to lower yourself, letting the blood rush to your head, then submerging yourself upside down into the cool water, lifting your head back up and letting the water cascade from your hair, onto your face, and down the back of your neck.