Waves smash up and over the rocks of the point, propelled by an unimaginable confluence of minutiae and chaos. This is the quantum foam writ large - no better model than the surf on the shattered bones of the earth which is the Maine coast.
There are many walks of life present. All are reverent sentinels, each in their own way. Not unlike Easter Island, though somewhat more diverse. Most are at attention, facing south, together.
A foggy day on my own. Many visitors are on the point, couples, families with picnics and / or dogs. Lots of dogs here.
The breeze is light and the fog masks the working lobsterboats, all but the sound of their engines. Deep throated, chuffing diesels in the nursery of the fog, give rise to visions of dragons and krakens idling off the coast, just hoping an easy meal will set out from shore.
I still haven't seen the seal. I bet all the barking dogs can smell him. It's when they're all quiet that the visions in the fog become compelling. Best to follow the dogs' example, lest the boojum make known that you've seen it.
