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  • Well before sunsight, the softly veiled half moon hovered over a slow lapping Pacific suspending everything like haze in a dream space in waiting, not a sound nor a sand stirred. By noon, the well-worth wait was rewarded: half-awake half-asleep, two colossal sprays of water broke the surface, surrounded by pods, flaps, bleats and barks. Against a surreal backdrop of Downtown Los Angeles in the far distance and an immediate blooming Lilliputian forest of Giant Coreopsis, two visitors paler than the air, in two-pieces paler than the blooms, gasp at the grasp of life at Point Dume. Confounded by these two and humbled by the other two, in rhetorical exchanges with another two, thus is life in Malibu.
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