Water

I am dreaming of Steve and of water.

As I walk down the beach a huge wave grey, blue and green rises and rises. And it rises so high it blocks the sun, then it comes thundering down burring me beneath its weight.

Then there is the river, which I observe from a white balcony, I see it run and the people swimming in it, but I never join them.

Steve . . . I don’t remember.

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