A beach, seven in the evening of a day in late August with the warmth of the red sun at sunset which warms every molecule, every breath, every thought. The tamarisk-candid-lilies, bees. The blue sea of white foam on the shore. The blond children of the sun. Pistachios, ouzaki, bare feet. The warm inside. The feeling that your skin is only a gap-getting thinner, almost to vanishing-between you and the light. And the shocking beauty of intuition that you have a place in that light.

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