along the beach, the seagulls and joggers were out in full force. white-spotted fawns overlooked the dusk from the golfcourse, causing the tourist traffic to coagulate down to three or four miles per hour in front of me. across the water, where the sky scoops down to kiss the sea, a break in the monochome of the clouds let the last bits of sunlight graze her fingertips along the horizon. a tiny ribbon of pure blue and gold against the otherwise uniform grey of a typical evening. the waves pulled themselves towards the shore, long fingers of undertow and whitecap and mist.

i like the fact that i know this stretch of coastline; most of the beaches i don't know nearly as well as i could, but i can drive along and know that this is high tide. i know that the dark splotches in the bay are forests of kelp where otters stash their babies, and great whites lurk just beyond. i know which season the grey whales will pass here in their long migration south, when the monarchs will do the same. i know that the water will get colder as the months peel away through summer, that the high jagged rocks are mostly granite and the jagged trees mostly our peculiar species of cypress. i know this place with the reflexive ease of a lifetime spent in observation through casual experience.

nika and i discussed breifly that we were noticing new traffic signs, new skidmarks on the street. slowly, i am realizing that i like living in a town that small. i like knowing that the strange popping sounds on a particularly hot day are pinecones snapping open. i like that my absolute favorite fifty feet to drive is about six blocks from my house.

i very much like school in philadelphia, but i don't think i'm going to live there.