Tired of the crowds? Take a load off. Enjoy the post.
If ever there was a time for action, it’s passed.
Gone down for holiday. Check back in a few revolutions.
She felt sick and turned over to feel a cooler pillow on her furrowed brow where coconut scented oil sunk into the cotton beach blanket squeezed between the world and her face.
Horizons swooned, perpetually motive, twenty feet above their heads and ten thousand leagues below the soles of their sunburnt feet.
Ah, the glory and weight of the enviable, loathsome center.
On a boat they burned in the gulf sun, her father and brother first, then Addy, the two of them cast off into a salty blue-grey brine, never-ending.
Loving yourself is so unproductive.
And she drifted back to the other side of the double-paned window, through the sweaty condensation, sliding down where blue skies fall into the sea.
Victory and defeat taste the same once drowned in the sour and broken hollandaise of popular opinion.