9 November 2007. Sun on veiled sky, November weather. Whether November... Velzy & Jacobs, veiled obsessions--a darkish room smelling of balsa and fresh resin--the glossy sheen of each leaning totem, silent in dowelled racks... a kind of lore, each shape made real. How so? A question of the ocean--the form of a wave, its particular mass and curl, rate of break...face of left slide at Trestles, through the scrub and Marine Corps tracks, a streambed estuary opening to the sea. Or, the Oceanside pier at dawn, checking the break against just how far out along the pilings--to the fish house median. Winter storms--a roiled expanse of broken white, spindrift foam blown horizontal, cross-current chaos...
Summer mornings, new light on a deep blue-green, no trace of wind. Outside, outside...
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