Been feeling so desperate and wild, full of longing and pain: old wounds that I thought were healed spinning back around to grab me by the throat, a new object of desire carves a hole inside me and shimmers just out of reach.
The only solution is to go to Second Beach. Even in the holiday traffic, the holiday crowds. If you walk far enough south you will be the only one there. You can then start to pry open the rusted bits of your mind, let the wind and salt and the far horizon inside of you, be reminded that you are here only so that everything can pass through you.
The wet sand perfectly reflects the sky. Your wild mind starts to settle beneath the relentless surf. The wind there to hold your tired body. The light breaking apart and falling softly over everything. The shadow of a cloud scurries in front of you as you walk. You could walk forever. You want your bones to become sand, holding the shape of anything that presses into it until the water comes and smooths it out to mirror again.
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