For the Mouth of the Sea
When I first saw him, he looked like a creek. Uneven, tattered, often inundated. Backwater syndrome, I smirked. Not quite sufficient on your own. Never sufficient on your own. Always a sneaky entry. Placid, although the mighty ocean is a stone’s throw away. Wasted. Seeing the sea, but not being the sea. Wasted, I repeated. […]
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