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Show Go Love/232 from the reflective lenses, the finest on earth, and I've wondered whether or not Cap ever rounded this piece of earth, where we've lost ourselves to the day by day routine of being. Approaching the beach and subsequent surf from the east is nearly impossible, the cliffs up to the Blanco plateau-and its Indian burial site-being sheer drop offs that not even rock climbers try On the ocean side, polished rocks-house-sized islands alive with sea lions-jut from the sea Obsidian-black points reflect water and sky, shine as sawteeth no ship nor boat will try. The rocks make a barrier between us and open sea, maybe a quarter mile out into the blue horizon that draws the eyes and is pleasing to look toward Moment to moment a whale blows, inside a rock's throw, you see them see you I start talking to them when they're in close like that, when they look me in the eye and it's whatever time of day it is when I begin to speak to the whale that keeps swimming and sounding beyond the first breaker. Her calf is in tow, blowing air columns in big shiny bursts that whish upward and are so real that it seems my heart will break. The names of the days have gone away I'm just a man on a fingernail of earth with a woman and a child. We've come clear cross a continent, I don't know why I face the whale on a day that I don't know a name for-open up and begin to tell, to make the words that come before anything. Open up, speak, make the words Maybe that's how it all starts, on the beach, this beach, the gulls screaming over my head and the clouds. It's cold and I wear fleece, my bare feet in the sand, Lara and Renee somersaulting down the magnificent fine-sand mountain that century's have blown up against the Cape. They climb together to the top, a real struggle up a hundred yards of steep pitch, sand to their calves, then they stand on top, two, three hundred feet up there and catch their breaths. Lara points seaward-her mother brings a hand to her eyes~a salute for whale-seeing, cape codders for sailor's |