Down on the dock, a boy fishes next to his grandfather; a few feet away a mother and daughter throw in their lines heavy with bait. At least they could be grandfather, grandson, mother, daughter. No one speaks much, just the easy cast and pull of squirming fish. A seal and I watch, he from the water, I from the land.
On the beach no one for miles but for one young family. Parents and baby up on a towel. A girl, with the world to herself, shrieks with the mighty Pacific, talks to it, sings and dances with it.
For a moment all the rest of it falls away: the cynicism and the greed, the injustice, the suffering of the earth.
For a moment there is just this.