A red moon was out and we sat on the beach and watched the waves coming in, breaking first here and there, unevenly, where their foot caught in the shoals or where the crests were fullest, then all along the crests as the patches of surf expanded and raced towards each other sideways to the forward motion of the waves, the surf merging into a continuous ribbon till the entire wave finally plunged and crashed and died, and I thought those bright lines of racing surf resembled the wakes of speedboats or the trails of rockets and I told you to look how they rushed towards each other and kissed with a sort of smack as they met at some point midway between them. And you smiled vaguely in the dusk, sitting there beside me on the sand, and whispered 'Yes', as if to say 'I see'.
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