Chest high and smooth as silk, these half barrels break far enough out that you can ride them all the way down the beach.
The sun breaks through the rain clouds and shines a constant beam on the lone old-timer in a full wetty braving the cold Atlantic this morning, as I quietly chew my burrito.
Sitting on the sandy steps that lead to the other side of this continent and two thirds of all the water in the world that rushes by my back door daily, I remember why I’m here.
Most folks move here to live on the beach.
I moved here for love.
~breakfast at the beach access, Madeline Laughs