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In my last post (back in March!!) I mentioned object writing. The following is from a ten-minute exercise I did a few days ago. This may be more like place writing. It is just an exercise, not necessarily something destined for greatness but I enjoyed this particular one quite a bit since it is one of my favorite memories of time spent at my grandparents’ cabin. Hope you enjoy it to.

     The tide was low, the sand wet and packed where the sea had been. Covered in squeaky boots and raincoats we wandered the beach, wet hair sticking to our cheeks and blowing in our eyes. Lanterns and flashlights bobbed and glowed up and down the shore, a thousand places where darkness was cast out. The dull roar of the ocean was our constant companion. My hands were dull too but my chest felt like one of the lanterns burning in the evening fog. My grandfather knew this place and knew what he was looking for: tiny holes in the sand were our clues. We rushed to them and pulled a tower of sand up to capture a small creature digging with all its might downward. That night we caught 12, a decent catch. The cabin was somewhere past the high struggling dunes but from where we stood all was weeds and sand and water and fire.

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