A young man approaches the water and disrobes down to a pair of shorts. He runs briskly into the ocean and back out again. Is this a test of will? A dare? An attempt to awake out of an endless stupor? If I went in that far, I would swim out past the waves, float on my back, feeling the water rise and fall. Surely I would get carried away with the wind, but that is not part of my current daydream.
Two men are fishing and are the only others at the beach. They whirl around with their poles, trading places now and again. Seagulls look for bait to snack on while the men tug at the lines. I kick rocks and take pictures.
I wander and wait for I know not what. My hair blows in my eyes and into my mouth. I am not used to the unwieldy nature of these unattended tendrils. My worries waiver and whip away with the wind. I wander back up the hill dancing, quietly collecting these scattershot halcyon days.