September 6, 2020
The
ride to Folly Beach was hedged about with traditions of people who’ve come
before, where to stock up on liquor, where to have late lunch, all that. We
passed by Charleston, which I longed for. I arrived in a bad mood, having
convinced myself that the WiFi wouldn’t work or some unlikely thing, and made
for the beach as soon as we settled in. The beach was lovely with revelers, and far
more integrated, black and white, than I remember any public beach being. I
waded into the tepid Atlantic, and in one second felt anxiety draining from me
into the bronze-colored waters. Lovely altogether! I was the only one to go to
beach. Returned, sat on the dark balcony with the group talking about what we
talk about. Slept like a child, woke to dreams in
which I was berating my former colleagues for teaching badly.
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