11 Aug 2022

Whispers carry me through tide pools and blue grottos, fathoms deep, fathoms wide. I could fixate on the blue, would eat it like a dessert or a lover. And to think they rescued Poseidon, counting, heaving, reaching toward silent ancient secrets. To think he had to be rescued.

A view of an abandoned swimming pool from the wooden diving board, overlooking the pool basin painted bright blue. The sun shines directly.

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