The strange way they rippled and ran without ever dissipating. The way the light caught patterns that seemed almost circular, the weeds moving as if in some strange code. The mountainside alive under the caress of the wind. On the horizon clouds drape solemnly over hills, obscuring the peaks. The beach is windswept.
More waves appear, waves of sand, waves of water.
The beauty is almost painful, a bitter kiss of a lover's scorn. The sand assaults me, stinging my bare legs, daring me to leave footprints, erasing my path. The wind batters me and the gulls hang motionless above the water. Holli picks at the shale behind me, searching for fossils. Waves crash and wind rushes, there is no silence here.