Patchy Marine layer, beauty before rolling in like one of those great lakes. And there is an end out there, where I'd like to visit, maybe again, though I'm not sure where the hell two-hundred and seventyish degrees will find me. Even less so now that even the break is obscured.
I won't disappear with it. Not yet. Not even if I'm loud enough about it.
Not as if it matters or will, or that matter is a pretty good word to use every once and while most things remain good in moderation.
Things appear ominous and those may be part of the reason that I stand and watch the fog instead of diving into it. Also, the water will be chilly again.
Objectively, I regret earnestly enough. Inshallah and it is what it is.
