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Marine Layer

Writer: Mackenzie O'BrienMackenzie O'Brien

It's cold.


The kind of cold that bites through

my toes as I stick them in the sand-- naked.

Like water, the sand crashes over my foot,

concealing it in beige.


The wind whistles over the cliff-face behind me,

the fans of towering palms crackle and groan.

The sky, charcoal and worrisome,

hangs low over the splash of the sea and

churn of the waves.


It bundles itself over the ocean and

patches of cacti on the cliff above,

lapping against my face with its

ice-cold tendrils.


I shiver, digging my toes further into the sand.

I know I'm only drenching myself in the

chill of the Pacific at this point,

so I plop down on the sand.


It molds itself to my form as I

watch the waves crash

against the shore.


They're something like giants.


Laguna Beach waves.
A painting of the waves at Laguna Beach.

 
 
 

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