It is an uninteresting question. One that requires one to imagine an ocean that produces only one single wave, not a succession. Rendered riddle perhaps the answer might have something to do with a royal procession and a car crash. It is the worst time of year here in New York. I've only been around for a little bit of the winter, and the winter I have been here for has been unseasonably mild, yet I am still walking along the edge of soft depression. The wind blows, mussing the hairs of the uneven swells, my strength sapped by a faded light that makes the drive to the beach all the more foreboding. One does not, as so often assumed, dream of a vacation beach home for the summer months. Instead it is in the winter that one pines for refuge. And it isn't even some hot, anti-seasonal getaway that one yearns for. No, it is to immerse oneself even more into the wind, the cold, the chop but somehow getting oneself further into the darkness, closer to the sea, where the salvation is. It is curious that we've not made it happen yet. It is amazing that the motivation has not overtaken all obstacles. But such is our stubborn inertia.
And here is a wonderful procession of music and waves.
via N. Sabich
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1 comment:
I really enjoyed this post, Todd. I feel like we haven't been able to understand the bones of winter this year and it is a drag.
Noah
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