One evening, Sly and I walked a couple miles or so into town, passing by a field of ponies munching on dewy grass and guided half-way by a friendly golden retriever. We could have just as easily driven the short distance, but the night was cool and breezy and we felt like stretching our legs. There was a brief stop at the grocery store to buy a deck of cards decorated with hula girl graphics, a book of crosswords, a 10-pack of my favorite mechanical pencils, and a few snacks. We weren’t really hungry but we still ate a plate meal and a bowl of vegetable saimin from L&L for dinner. Somewhere during our journey, ice cream may have been involved.

By the time we slipped back into camp the ocean was luminous, beckoning. The moon shone as bright as I’ve ever seen it and the water looked like silvery shards of glass, broken and glimmering under a puffy line of cotton-like clouds. At once our humble beach shack transformed into a magical place that felt both real and surreal at the same time, as if we were tiny actors living within a cellulose movie reel.

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