Still holding onto this summer, darker than usual and full of man, myth, and magic.
Finished this book over a year ago, when the son was still shining and the father had not gone down.
It revisits a world I enjoyed well as a boy--my parents frequently scheduled beaches into our holidays.
The shore is where I wound up (washed up?) in life--Central Coast of California--though curiously I don't spend much time on the beach. My vantage point is blufftop on a morning run or a campus walk.
Our beaches hold little scraps of tar, so that after a long walk on the sand your sole is stained with gritty ooze.
Natural seepage it is, they say, though we can plainly see rigs. Earth Day had its origin here after a spill.
A summer's day cannot escape the demons.