and then...waves

Ocean loves in powerful, excited waves which climax white upon seeing me, sighing content as fizz around my ankles. Salt deposits foam immense!

What makes vulnerable, vulpix vulpine in love? Vulpine in love punches his headboard, olde headboard, with wired muscles pulsing. His body too much and too little for what he feels. In his pillow he makes moans until they become screams. Anchor Premier found baby bouts of woe. 

I spent a few days writing in a beachfront hotel. Money makes ocean view spectacular, money or luck. Sea lions bark with mythological frequency. My year of romance, men presented. Plants grow alive, they'll sprout eyes any second now with all that tropical character.

I drank milk out of a coconut. I now appreciate coconuts. Nautical imagery swims. I have too much writing to do in what must be enough time because too little time is not an option. My precious stalemate still called novel, write it finished! 

The Palace Nouvelle is gorgeous. New architecture breathes strong. Windows are tall, lights are up and down cohesive, breezes cool and plants blossom ecstatic. The flood is rising. We will have our own coastline soon and, Alan, you are my ocean.