A tristful moon tried to unfurl it’s peek-a-boo self, not only from a stubborn cloud deck, but also, seemingly, from the pull and weight of the sky itself.

Directionless moonbeams ricocheted pianistic light amongst billions of pop up and down crests, as an enormous, spotted gray sea bird flew above the pristine seafront… {holy friggin crap this water is cold} save for the fresh footprints filling in and draining out with tidal regularity.

(Written by Edward Roads)