We went to the beach today, Stephanie and I. Our Wallace and Pushkin needed a little sun. A slightly wrong turn got us a little lost, but we arrived at a much quieter beach than we intended, with no lifeguard which meant freedom to swim out past the buoys. We shared the sand with a few nannies and their kids who fished in the sea weeded parts of the lake.
We floated. Swam out past the buoys and laid back against the still water. Little tufts of cotton floated past in the blue blue sky. Suspended for a moment--cut off from your surroundings, the only thing you are aware of is your own breathing and the emptiness below you.
A swim back to shore, some cold crescent moon pizza, a few more pages read of Jest and we're back at 1300. My skin smells like lake and sunscreen.
My copy of Jest now has sand stuck in the creases between pages, when I open it I can hear the faintest crunch.