August 2009
3 posts
packing uproots everything, including the fall of...
men out in the crashing surf with waders up to their chests and rainjackets on. they’re fishing for dinner—fishing to catch something. but pick a spot a few yards away, down the beach from the point, where the surf is less complex. pants rolled up to the knees, feet bare, a turtleneck, a sweater. back to the sunrise—it’s not the purpose of the fishing—indifferent to...
she calls it a mayonnegg.