The navy-blue sea was wild and woolly yesterday, at the end of the afternoon. Everyone I saw had a camera, aimed at the Atlantic. White caps crested here and there. Waves crashed on the shore, although the tide was receding. Foam shot forward like molten lava. It was an ocean that spoke of winter, not summer. “Fear me,” this ocean said. It made me feel small. The power of nature should never be underestimated.
