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  • I bike out to Manhattan Beach, stand on the pier.

    Watch the surfers float and bob as I take a few panoramic shots.

    Infinity stretches in both directions, out over the grey waters and back over the millions of land-locked dreamers.

    Sometimes there are dolphins out there. Too late for that now.

    There are bodies down there, playing games, drifting out into the grey, riding it back towards the land.

    One man doesn't have a surfboard.

    He lets the tide take him, swims into the waves as they come. He's not fighting for distance from the shore, but not taking the easy way back in either. Instead, he's working to stay in place.

    Twenty feet above all of this, I'm dizzy, feeling the odd pull of the existential.
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