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January 6, 2020

Baldwin Green is the color of water at this beach. Any time I'm here I try to burn it into my brain for
future recollection back in Seattle, head submerged in epsom salt bath, a shallow simulacrum but the
mind is deep. From here you can watch planes take off and land, sleek sausages stuffed with tourist
meat, and time was I'd count the days till I'd join them, dreading inevitable departure. I don't want to
leave but I'm better at not thinking about it too far in advance, content to embrace the moment. I was
trying to photograph this turtle when an inconsiderate interloper interposed herself between it and my
camera, but in the end she improved the balance of the composition so gets a pass. I ate a proferred
cannabis chocolate before my flight, so strong I left booze on the table then carefully, impeccably,
 politely, with great dignity, landed myself in the wrong seat--mainly because someone had taken
mine; still, I should have known better. But it was all for laughs as we reshuffled and found our
places (though I left phone and slides behind--oops). Got lost in the clouds until sunset, then
watched Apollo 11, rocket launch synching perfectly with real life turbulence. Second in
line for toilet, the young man ahead offered to let me go first: "I've got to go number 2,"
 he said. A little TMI, but I thanked him for his frankness. Yet how did he guess I didn't
have to go 2, too? Didn't matter. Did what I needed to then put the seat down for him.
And that's how I got back to soggy Seattle.