Longer mountains already so white and not stop once your feet wet. The ocean. Its waves like mountains. So close to the sun. Only a few brave surfers dare to confront. Skip
minutes, hours to marvel before the show. Drunkenness provide that the waves. Both sweet and terribly violent. A ballet incessant, perpetual motion.
Enjoy the sun red and kind of November, the spray in your hair. The ocean and its waves lull my fatigue. I try to absorb some of their strength.
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