Thursday, March 1, 2018

Met no one, Saw no one, Either Going or Coming Back

So it was 8 o'clock on a day when rain was predicted and a few drops had fallen and were falling. The wind, unusually, was from the South.
The only sign of human life was, far away by the Rock, a floating white coffin, waist high, heading for the water, which I at last interpreted as a white surf board being carried to the ocean. Not a single person there but an 82 year old guy whose purple LLBean anorak kept him snug.

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