How could it not be that things keep happening all at once.

Constant waves, the tumult of action. Repercussions awash.

Smashing explosions of surf blasting force into rockfaces.

Eroding, barrels upon barrels curl and grip at sand with clumsy fingerless effort.

As the surfs retreats into the great body it folds and kicks up.

Explosions in the sky. Whitewash. Salty multidirectional pulses.

Blood tasting, eyes rolling, humans, cattle, the ocean.

Only for a time are we still, forgetting the tempest. Soaking up peace until the rush begins, all over again.

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