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When I was a little girl, my family had a summer house on a point. There was a huge white monastery next door, with a high sea wall in front of it. At high tide, the ocean came right up to the wall and slapped against the stone. At the wall’s end, the land flattened out into a sandbar. In June, at low tide, you could walk down there and the sandbar would be teeming wi
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I love the ocean, everything about it enchants me; the smells, the sights, the sounds. I loved walking to the sandbar and seeing all the life. The lights of the harbor glided, shimmering, across the water, and a gleaming crescent moon graced the dark sky overhead. To my child’s mind, the ocean
Farina 2
could be scary. I love sitting in the dunes at night, listening to the waves hit the shore, hidden from view. The ocean rocked me in its arms and lessened my sadness. The damp, metal railing I held was cool to the touch and the ship rocked gently. th horseshoe crabs, heavily armored and prehistoric-looking. You felt the power of the ocean there, the mighty force and capricious unpredictability. The water lapped softly at the ship, as it cut through the black, calm waters, and channel markers could be heard softly murmuring their refrain. I was sad that night, watching the pinpoints of light slowly disappear but the memory is not an unhappy one. I will be peaceful, a subject of Poseidon. It was cool and the air was thick with moisture and the smell of salt.
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