There was not music to them all, or perhaps there was. Some strange discordant song (of whale?) for every ribbon of flotsam drawn ashore by the tide. Some ending in silence. Some in earthly echoes.
He knew the ancient composition of sand. It brought him closer, maybe, to its song. Off to Singapore now.
One of the gods was appeased that morning, or two.
No one wants to give away the thing they love. I've only known one person who has, a woman. I can not speak for her.
It became apparent that there was something wild within her. That someday, she would need a lover who also possessed the wildness, that fluid.
"You're going to sleep in your jewelry?" he asked.
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