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Still hear the waves by Ivan Donn Carswell
It was a brave day under an endlessly clear sky that extended forever from our valley to the unfathomably distant sea. It was a day to remember amongst days of classical splendour and wonderment, from an unoccupied beach and the virgin sand crisp and crumbling under flying feet, to the tumbling vastness of twinkling ocean lying invitingly within reach. We shrilled in the whip of the wind that blew into the bay, growled with the clap and crash of waves always in motion, waded and splashed in an unnamed ocean, fell in pools filled with wallowing froth, coughed and laughed in wavelets and troughs boldly shouting defiance ‘til stopped by cold. And when the sand chafed beneath our trunks and the salt sea dried to crystals of coarse rime on our reddened skin we still ran. Do you remember it then, do you remember how that day would never end? Though there are years between now and then I can still see the sand and the twinkling sea in the nameless bay, still hear the waves. © I.D. Carswell
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