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11:01 a.m. - October 28, 2002
Micah 7
Like Micah but not like Micah, will I be heard?

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Am leaving this afternoon for the coast and a campground and I hope to be secluded, those concerned by nighttime frost and cold routed by the winds that will come in from the ocean to be my delieverance.

The coast is more than beauty and escape and a tan, more than building sandcastles and Coppertone, it is the promise of change. There is nothing impervious to salt water, not even me. Do you see?

I seek the salt water to recharge but think, salt doesn't sustain. I go to the sea when I'm at the lowest and perhaps it is because to sleep by the ocean is what I want, the gound shaking under the sound, the heave of the waves will rattle, and between the confluence of sound and motion I'll remember who I am and what I want and will breathe deep and my head will clear.

The sleeping bag is heavy.

 

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