![]() Half a tide where, at least in my mind, I was somewhere warm and dry, somewhere that didn't smell like crap or rotting fish. I'm not sure why I'm yawning because I had a pretty good spell of sleep. My clothes are wet, and my lips taste like salt. I've gotten pretty good at doing all these things one-handed. I stand and shake the sand out of my mat, then roll it up and affix it to my knapsack. Soon almost everything will be underwater. With every breath, every heartbeat, they rise a little more. High tide is approaching, the waves slowly coming closer. The sun burns like fire among black smokelike clouds on the horizon, making my eyes squint and burn. ![]() Every breeze is like death breathing down my back. I know it is going to happen soon, and maybe in my lifetime.Įvery morning I wonder if I will see the sunset. ![]() Maybe they wondered whether it would happen while they were alive, or if their children, grandchildren, or maybe even their great-greatgreat-great-grandchildren would be the unlucky ones to be there when the world crashed down around them. It's almost as if the waves are taunting me.įor thousands of tides I am sure people thought about how and when the world would end. I watch the waves come and erase the words from the shore. ![]() I write things on the sand so I won't forget them. ![]()
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