I find it hard to believe in things that were once so sure. The seasons have changed their order and made clear the desire to remain past their time. What was once grey blanketed surf oblivion is now sun soaked and wave rich. The winds that seemed never to tire of their journey from the Pacific now rush back out to sea as if to escape the perils of terra firma and it's inhabitants. The last pulses of energy roll with precision over yielding sand before crashing to their demise on an uncrowded shore. If the way things were can become the way that they are now, then there is nothing to believe in except change.
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