Usually I have to rush to keep up with my thoughts. Sometimes I catch up with them and grind to a standstill. Idling by the fear that it's over and out, that I will never adventure anything again that's worth writing down. Walled in by impotence in my own blank. Until spontaneously a new pleasure springs from my mind and hoppety hop, my pen is what I'm after.
When I was young I used to stalk English-speaking people in the city of Groningen, hoping they would address me about whereabouts so I could practice my English. Even through the raindrop ridden windshield the snow-white of the breakers almost viciously stands out against black waves and the stretch marks of grey skies.
Yesterday perverts have had a picnic close to my parking place. I could tell by the garbage they had left behind. Close to me, stones form a fireplace, that I use for to pee. This way I keep the rest clean. In the past six weeks there has formed such a Lithium deposit, that the fire may have been seen from the moon. I hope things tasted well. It can't have not because of the salt.
What would Dusty do when it rains? This, of course, is fresh water and, as a mammal, she needs that. She does scantily produce it herself, but, comparatively, it's like swimming in a desert. Fresh water floats on sea water and does not mix instantly. I have seen the salincline, the salt partition, where river water flows into the sea. The top water layer gets a Vaseline transparency. Could she cream it of, separate it from the salt, maybe by means of sonic electrolysis? I tremble for the answer of the 'dolphinists'.
But acoustically, would rhythms and harmonies fuse with the slashes of rain and the length/height of the waves? It won't be comparable with how the rain scourges the roof of my car. And that is a pretty snug sound.
After these last words I looked through my back window and saw two coarse man in reflecting traffic jackets barricade the entrance to the dunes with large blocks of rock. I jumped behind the wheel straight away and left by the other exit that was barricaded only minutes after.
The result of fighting abuse of the dunes by day trippers is that it is made impossible for a handful of environmentally oriented people like me to stay there. So the social control vanished totally. But the day trippers keep coming and before the cock crows thrice, the stones will be removed and ever more will tear their cars over the thyme and spray the dunes with their rubbish. How many eegits does it take to make one wise man?