It was not a typical hot beach day in Los Angeles, but since I have been venturing out towards the water every weekend, I didn't want to skip my visit. As I approached the water, I noticed a huge tree, uprooted, lying on its side. I felt sad. I descended the steps leading down to the water, holding on to the railing for support, against the strong gusts blowing at me.
Windy and cold, in the 60s, the water crashed upon the shore with much energy and vigor. The turbulent waves unsettled the seaweeds, crabs, and rocks from the ocean floor. Tossed upon the desolate beach, people and seagulls picked at their remains. They are the artifacts that give land creatures a glimpse into the life under the sea.
Walking close to the waves, I got my flip flips and cuffs wet. I enjoyed the sounds of the waves, each current different from the next. I noticed the foam that collected along the shore. It might be oil pollution that caused the foaming, as I looked out along the horizon and saw oil wells in the water. That's my guess. I was mesmerized by how pretty the foams looked against the radiant light. Fragile and reflective, they blew away quickly. How beautiful!
