In all our valleys the light is the same
I have no idea what my internet access for the rest of this weekend will be like; I am taking a bus to Falmouth, to meet up with non-livejournal friends for a party in East Dennis. In one fashion or another, this should mean the sea. Also, maybe sleeping on the bus.

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Nine
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Not as much as I would have liked, because the light was dying out of the sky, but I watched the waves in the sunset until it was gone.
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I knelt at the tide-line and put my hand in the sea; when I stood up, I realized I was washing my hands with it, everywhere I could touch salt.