The main thing to convey is the silver blue of the sand; but all elements – all – shone with overwhelming clarity.
Words like pellucid, electrical. Gulls cut hard against the ultramarine. You could feel the sunlight on your back at four pm in November.
The unseasonable. The uncanny. The great calm of the ocean summoned a mirage of whales. The great sweep of beach and water.
And so your psyche sought the same level, the same evenness of temper; and the land and seascape was so overwhelming
That it wasn’t serenity but absence: The surrender of your turbulence to an airtight argument.