Enga mellom fjella

Dominical

Me:

I went to the beach because I was bored. Cloudy, stormy day.

Surf's up! Ants cross the drying sands. Clouds hover. In town, puddles. Humid. Hot. Waves come in and sink into cinnamon sand. Puddles disappear in seconds. Bubbles burst from the small holes of the ghost crabs.

Las huellas de los animalitos, pájaros, perros ... y los nuestros. Cómo herimos la playa; cómo las olas lo sanan.

A lines of pelicans in flying formation, the Tico Air Force out on maneuvers. (David Barash) Jumping insects and still brown leaves, sharp rocks. I watch every step, afraid to turn an ankle or fall. I go slow in the heat of the day ... slower.

Alarm-song of the neglected car:

vengavengavengavenga ... oyoyoyoyo ...

Now a stiff breeze, incoming tide, light rain or spray?

The angry ocean is jealous of the sand, tries to take it back. Morning glory and walking-grass try to trap it. The crabs in their own littoral way ... don't care.

Had a hamburger for supper. Overall, a blah-blah day.

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