recording a memory

walking with Noa on the beach

Listening to the sounds of joy as a young boy can be heard caving in sand walls from a stream washing out to sea. In the distance you hear a man with a table saw and up close are the sounds of Max’s collar jiggling has he comes up next to me. My feet start to sink into the sand has I cave in a few walls myself. I join Noa collecting rocks near the shore. Our voices murmuring in the crashing waves like a memory fading away.