It is Sunday, washing together and falling back. The burning bites around the ankles. The bacon and grits and wreck fish and gravy. The endless debate of chill and heat. The burn in the sand. The lightening breeze. She tells of his sorrows. He tells of hers. Small shark on a hook. Cup full of fossil teeth dropped back to the dunes. Leaning together for the camera and smiling. The ribbon of grey running through green. The simplicity of return.
Telling: Streams & Logs