Crystal white foam, grey-black dirigible underbelly, peaks come helter-skelter from every conceivable direction. When the sand is felt by bobbing toes, it’s a wonder; but when I drift into this trough/channel the bottom drops out and I’m gulping for dear life. This churning sea is engulfing me and I don’t know which way is up. I cannot write normally now, the island has moved many feet from its resting place and the waves are sucking out with no notice of return. The low siren begins. Another fifteen thousand souls have joined the sea, now another, another one close to us. Meredith. She has joined the milk sea, joined Todd.
The mountain is turning in the milky ocean, now it is sinking. Vishnu in his Kurma avatar has come to the rescue, the serpent is still spinning its mighty tail, we are hanging on for the breath that keeps us here. We are surfing, not drowning.