So much studying and writing. I stretched, at least, and walked on the beach twice. I rode my bike to the nearby store, an in-crowd hangout, and bought raspberries and chocolate. At the neighboring coffee shop I got an americano 「きっさてんで　コーヒーを　のみました」. A deluge of music by Adham Shaikh fell from 80s super-woofer speakers hung by their wood paneling to the eave of the shack. It immersed patio loungers basking in shade-muted sunlight, muted voices. I thought it sounded awesome, like a summer pace, an ocean-level place.

Today the weather was lovely: bright sun that shed a blue-green surf. It was impossible not to walk out there in the scurrying fog, it fleeing the colorful water for the more muted inland. It swirled around us like a rush of ghosts.

I stretched some too, cooked for myself. I rested and savored this idyll. I long for it even when I'm here because the stay is too short. There's a for-sale sign out front that conjures a twinge of anxiety. I couldn't buy this place, but someone will and they likely will demolish it for a mansion or a copse of condos. Already, too many mansions line the shore. Today, walking along the beach looking at the houses, I noticed how diminutive this old cabin is compared to all the other homes. The others are huge, for huge numbers of people.

I leave tomorrow to go back to the assault of every little thing. I hate it. How long could I stay here like this before I felt the itch to leave? I wonder …. a week? Two? A month? After that long hermitage in Korea, I think I can tolerate more solitude than most other people can.

The stars are out. If there's a flashlight …

Well, no flashlight, but, oh, the galaxy way up high like that, roving and twinkling myriad, improbable colors!

I used my blinky bike taillight to make the way out there and the light was little to no use at all until I'd stood beneath the forest canopy a bit and stared up awhile at what peeked through. Only then, if I pressed the red light to the earth I could eke out a path.

And once out there on the sand, the vast plane of it silvery in the starlight. Some good proportion of a mile away the surf hissed and glowed, the great arcs of its boundaries mirrored in the fissures of the Milky Way.

Some sky I've never seen before. For the life of me, I couldn't identify a single constellation. Too many stars? They seemed to smash into one another, merge, slip off their spots and disappear. Only the brightest were stalwart, and, one in particular, was star-shaped like the stars on Christmas trees and the stars on walks of fame. I don't know by what trick.

Westward, the hulking shadow of Frank Island, and beyond that the striping beam of a lighthouse. It was bright to look at directly but the beam was too weak to lighten anything at this distance. It was an eery and silent terrestial companion, animated and observing but relentlessly blasting corneas every minute or so.

Between here and there one or more people danced a routine with red and orange lights, like the kind of routine you see at a rave or rave-like thing. It was stunning reflected in the wet sheen of the just tideless expanse, the backdrop infinite.

Then the lights vanished, and after a while I saw the darkest shadows moving in my direction. Standing still against the rock wall at the edge of the sand I was invisible to them; I watched them pass and they didn't notice me. A dog trekked ahead some ways. Then, after they'd passed, I saw a dark shadow in front me that I hadn't noticed before. A rather mammalian-shaped rock. It must've sensed some crazy creature over here and came to take a look; I sensed back its uncertainty. We stared at each other, motionless. Someone had to break the stalemate and I guess I thought it would be better if it were me. In any case, I wanted the encounter to be over. I moved slightly and the shadow burst to life as a small dog yipping and yapping. The passersby called and called for it, but the little beast was spooked and inconsolable. I stayed put, silent, till it took off for its people.

A warm night. It's midnight, almost as cold as it'll get and nigh of breezeless. I could've stayed there a long time.