August 30, 2002

I look on the South Carolina beach...The exhilarating, ribald sun and sonic waves still jolt. The sense-memories linger; the canvas bigger than life, a Disneyfication...

Vacationers stand fixed, in mid-stride, now miles away sitting in mundane offices, assuming identities. Grey-flanned men swimming upstream like death-bound salmon.

But there for a minute, sat I. A beach philosopher, watching the waves. An older gentleman asks:
"Solving the problems of the world?"
"No, my own are enough!"

Taxidermed there on a cube wall, it hangs forlornly, ripped from context and ghostly pale. An 8' by 10' of the scene from our balcony, sky empty and hierarchical, ocean blue and bracing. All pale imitation.

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