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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 4452 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention Driftwood in the Key of Pink Little Wing She stands, a thin package of grey and leathered tan. Eddies of shell-seekers with eager buckets part; close, around her. Her tides are drawn inward: inlets sucked, banks exposed, etched and charted under a conch-pink visor. She squints, smokes, watches. She has ceased her gathering - old from the eyes outward, like the end of a wave. |
