I will be washed away. I will be battered and picked at. I will stoop and sag. My skin will be stretched and folded and eventually pounded into sand. Decay will catch me. But for now, until the day I lose, I will win. I will pack my body's walls with strength it cannot keep. I will eat and drink. And when the tide is out, rocking back, I will close my eyes and rest my bones.
- Notes from the Tilt-A-Whirl by N. D. Wilson
Page 162, Summer Hiatus: Sand Castles
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