Watercolors Prototype

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<<if $summer isnot 1>>[[Humid, hot Summer air]]<<else>>Humid, hot Summer air<</if>> has made the beach a particularly inviting place to visit. <<if $no_sand isnot 1 and $sand_end isnot 1>>[[The sand]]<<else>>The sand<</if>> is sparsely populated with <<if $folks isnot 1>>[[elderly sunbathers and folks]]<<else>>elderly sunbathers and folks<</if>> who seek to share the cool refuge of <<if $cove isnot 1>>[[the ocean cove]]<<else>>the ocean cove<</if>>. <<if $generous isnot 1>>[[A generous space in the water]]<<else>>A generous space in the water<</if>> would allow for <<if $private isnot 1>>[[a private swim]]<<else>> a private swim<</if>>. <<if $private is 1 and $folks is 1 and $summer is 1>> <<set $water_end to 1>> <</if>>

<<if $parking_lot is 1 and $cove is 1>> <<set $summer_end to 1>> <</if>> <<if $summer_end isnot 1>> Any clouds that once occupied the wide open sky have since vacated, allowing for the sun's light and heat to touch down upon the earth and occupy any space it can reach. A careless glance toward <<if $parking_lot isnot 1>>[[the parking lot]]<<else>>the parking lot<</if>> will leave one's eyes pierced as mirrors and chrome bumpers redirect the littered light unto every angle. The flow of [[the water]] invites the shimmer to be similarly fluid. The only rest found in this brightscape lies in the <<if $cove isnot 1>>[[mountainous ridge bordering the water|the ocean cove]]<<else>>mountainous ridge bordering the water<</if>>. Brown earth and green foilage seem to be all that might not hold this weather in contempt. <<else>>[Ending Text] How refreshing it would be to have refreshment, embodied in the sighs of the tide that wash over. That same cleansing sensation of the body submerged, here against the oppressive texture of the air. The antithesis of this escapism is easily spoken for: the body will eventually grow tired of wading, and freedom to breathe, despite such unpleasant breathes one may be taking, is no longer present if wading should cease. The value of relief is lost as its temporal nature sets in. Soon enough there will be longing to be dry again. [[Perhaps there will be a bargain proposed to endure the humid air yet again.|The Beach]] <<set $ending to $ending += 1>> <<set $summer to 1>> <</if>>

<<if $summer is 1 and $private is 1 and $old is 1>> <<set $folks_end to 1>> <</if>> <<if $summer is 1 and $folks is 1 and $cove is 1>> <<set $sand_end to 1>> <</if>> <<if $folks_end isnot 1>>Whether this beach is the pinnacle of a person's leisure or one of a day's many stops, strangers and families alike share this space to play, relax, and meet. <<if $sand_end isnot 1>>[[The sand]]<<else>>The sand<</if>> is soft to the touch, yet bordering <<if $summer isnot 1>>[[temperatures too great|Humid, hot Summer air]]<<else>>temperatures too great<</if>> for bare feet. Water laps with a rhythm some will utilize as their hypnotic vehicle for a nap. The space in the water is generous enough for <<if $private isnot 1>>[[solitude|a private swim]]<<else>>solitude<</if>>, though <<if $old isnot 1>>[[solitude is not the aim of many.|old folks]]<<else>>solitude is not the aim of many.<</if>> <<else>> [Ending text] To glance upon the crowd is to a glance upon the sand they stand upon. Both are a product of Time; a process of tumbling and erosion that is the result of much older and more complex processes, much more than they'll ever come to comprehend. As the waves crash through and wash over, these components of a cosmic creation join the countless before them, forming a foundation for [[the next.|The Beach]] <<set $ending to $ending += 1>> <<set $folks to 1>> <</if>>

<<if $embrace is 1 and $parking_lot is 1>> <<set $cove_end to 1>> <</if>> <<if $cove_end isnot 1>> A stretched curvature of shoreline frames this inlet of water. A dense treeline coats both ends of its horseshoe shape, the center of sand a strong, symmetrical contrast. Just beyond the border of nature marked by sand stands an assortment of shops, condos, and the streets and sidewalks in-between. [[The water|the water]] stands as a fraternal twin to [[the town]], active by way of tide rather than foot traffic; fluid in form rather than solid and still. <<else>> [Ending Text] A stretched curvature of shoreline frames this inlet of water. A dense treeline coats both ends of its horseshoe shape, the center of sand a strong, symmetrical contrast. In a macroscopic sort of way, every perspective contains some sort of frame. Blue paint spills upon the frame of sand and jagged rock containing the work of art in focus. Its chaotic foam is met by balance with the predictable rise and fall of the tide. Entrancing, like the dance of a large fire at a safe distance. Consumptive and hospitable forces lie in them both. Eventually, that consumption will rise in destructive breadth and force, leaving an empty bed of waste from which to [[build anew.|The Beach]] <<set $ending to $ending += 1>> <<set $cove to 1>> <</if>>

<<if $folks is 1 and $summer is 1 and $private is 1>> <<set $generous_end to 1>> <</if>> <<if $generous_end isnot 1>>Solemnity whilst in <<if $folks isnot 1>>[[the presence of others|elderly sunbathers and folks]]<<else>>the presence of others<</if>>. This may perhaps be a cultural or primal response: to create an invisible perimeter, built as the result of the innate desire for privacy in a public space. [[Calm tide, deep blue.|the water]] A soothing improvement from any given patch of shade; certainly a place to hide from <<if $summer isnot 1>>[[the heat|Humid, hot Summer air]]<<else>>the heat<</if>>. <<if $private isnot 1>>[[A fine place to simply "be"|a private swim]]<<else>>A fine place to simply "be"<</if>>. <<else>>[Ending Text] Consider, instead, if the waves started here and went the other way? How would the world's history be changed if the shore sent out signals to plains of riptide and barreling crescent hills? The richness and abundance of life without boundary or definition of layer. [[It's all a big blue.|The Beach]] <<set $ending to $ending += 1>> <<set $generous to 1>> <</if>>

<<if $doze is 1 and $active is 1>> <<set $private_end to 1>> <</if>> <<if $private_end isnot 1>>On the beach, everyone is about themselves. The empty space in the water serves as a wall from them. There's something to water, how such ill-defined boundaries default to create a feeling of isolation. Things born of the water might feel a similar sensibility if they were to traverse land or air. No matter one's beachside context, time maintains its fluidity; <<if $doze isnot 1>>[[it's easy to doze off]]<<else>>it's easy to doze off<</if>> and let these surroundings continue to explain themselves. The waves push and pull, asking for <<if $active isnot 1>>[[more active engagement]]<<else>>more active engagement<</if>>. <<else>>[Ending Text] Swimming out into the water or being drawn in, for many, is a matter of perspective. Was it Will's directive or did the water beckon its vessel? The ambiguity of such a question typically remains, as the tide typically remains gentle enough for a voyager to press as deep as they'd like further into the waters. But here we have the sea making a rare statement, or rather a demand. The water rapidly draws back, pulling along all who had assumed cooperation with the waves. The beach shrinks back as laps and lashes of cold ocean tendrils taste their prey. Those further in suddenly drag beneath the undertow, gone into the mystery of the sea's intent. Furthest out, others find themselves rising with the open maw of the ocean. [[Wind and waves all sound the same.|The Beach]] <<set $private to 1>> <<set $ending to $ending += 1>><</if>>

An ancient force of life, to which people have amassed here to find relief from <<if $summer isnot 1>>[[the blaze above|Humid, hot Summer air]]<<else>>the blaze above<</if>>. The smell of salt runs for miles, but it doesn't get any stronger than here at the source. Coupling the scent with the tide conjures a humble image of its enduring legacy, as it has been this way since its beginning. It's reasonable to <<if $private isnot 1>>[[find exclusive space to swim within the waters|a private swim]]<<else>>find exclusive space to swim to oneself<</if>>, though <<if $folks isnot 1>>[[baseless company|elderly sunbathers and folks]]<<else>>baseless company<</if>> is within sight.

Meager in proportion and unassuming in stature, this coastal corner and its variety of amentities serves as a gate to [[the cove|the ocean cove]]. The<<if $embrace isnot 1>> [[pathways for cars and foot-traffic|intersecting street]] <<else>> pathways for cars and foot-traffic <</if>>coincide along a grid that concedes with the valley it lays in whenever it must. There are <<if $parking_lot isnot 1>>[[parking lots|the parking lot]]<<else>>parking lot<</if>> that line the start of the sand, allowing for folks to take to [[the water]] as soon as they arrive.

<<if $the_man is 1 and $intersecting_street is 1>> <<set $parking_lot to 1>> <</if>> Before there was tourism, there was this parking lot. Now it has become a modern hub of circling cars asking people if they’ll be leaving soon, <<if $summer isnot 1>>[[hot|Humid, hot Summer air]]<<else>>hot<</if>> leather seats that burn children, and the occasional dropped ice cream cone. <<if $the_man isnot 1>>[[A behemoth of an RV|the man]]<<else>>A behemoth of an RV<</if>> with the dealership stickers still on it dominates the lot and drowns out the tranquil crashing of waves (sand connection) with this month’s top 10 summer pop songs. The line of vehicles in need of parking trails all the way to [[town|the town]]. The cars that pass by on the <<if $intersecting_street isnot 1>>[[intersecting street]]<<else>>intersecting street<</if>> take no notice of the man's woe. <<if $parking_lot is 1>>---- [Ending Text] The parking lot is a panorama of heat mirages coming off car hoods and garish light reflections. Some would say it feels like summer, others may say it feels like hell. Everybody agrees on one thing though; it needs more parking. Some beach goers are returning to their vehicles but before they can take off air conditioners must be cranked; windows rolled down. A pair of young women smoke cigarettes in front of their idling Volkswagen Jetta, chatting loudly in their two piece bathing suits. A toddler cries as he is placed in the back of a sweltering mini-van, burned by a seat belt buckle. The snow cone vendor has run out of snow cones. Truly, this is a summertime hell. The only one who got gets out of the parking lot unscathed is the old man driving a rusted Ford Ranger pickup truck. He wears a yellowing, sweat-drenched undershirt; the air conditioner doesn't work, but that means nothing to him now. He's the only one who has the luxury to resist concerns about the temperature. The cement barrier at the edge of the lot only serves to make the incoming tsunami more violent, churning it up into a roaring whitewash. Sweeping up the first few cars in its path, a VW Jetta is crushed by luxury sedans as it wildly reverses into the escaping mini-van, dooming them both. The force of the wave's crash is enough to steal away precious breath. The snow cone vendor's cart swirls in the vortex and is pinned against the underside of the ritzy RV. The top single for this summer's pop music charts plays distorted through the metal. [[All in all, not a bad way to die for a hot afternoon.|The Beach]] <<set $ending to $ending += 1>> <</if>>

The boy really wants to play football. It's interesting and, at the same time, slightly discomforting: someone being so enthusiastic. The water is in the smooth motion that you sometimes feel while laying in bed. He goes for the ball with as much effort as possible, every time, regardless of the fact that he can't, most of the time, fight the water well enough to move adequately. His parents are glad to see his social interactions playing out. Slowly, that woman is drifting closer. The ball might go just out of range and skip the water into her. <<if $encouraging isnot 1>>[[Moving seems like a good idea,|moving seems like a good idea]]<<else>>Moving seems like a good idea,<</if>> <<if $fine isnot 1>>but perhaps [[it will be fine]].<<else>>but perhaps it will be fine.<</if>> Contemplating the awkwardness of the situation is not the best feeling.

The shops are sardines of leisure, side-by-side and carefree as the ocean breeze. Walking through this maze of local history manufactures a sense of nostalgia for folks passing through, whilst instilling true comfort for those who truly belong here. It all harkens back to a simpler time when commercialization was a harmless means to get by and profit wasn't so dirty and manipulative. There's hardly a soul passing by here without a swimsuit, sunglasses, or open-toed shoes. The more popular streets seem to be where the roofs conjure cool oases of shade. [[Wander.]] <<set $embrace to 1>> <<set $ending to $ending += 1>>

The woman continues on her path. Whether or not she would have had to deal with a ball is up in the air, but it's good to ensure one outcome over the other. His parents, though, don't seem to like how far their son has gotten. Coupled with the drifting of the tide and the avoiding of the drifting of the woman, he's a tad beyond comfortable range. But he's enjoying himself too much. His parents begin to [[walk back to shore, encouraging him to do so as well]].

The woman continues on her path. The boy, however, is getting more exhausted and is not throwing with much force. She's rather close now. The ball makes contact with the water, splashing her. Whether or not she would have had to deal with a ball making contact with her is up in the air, but how could any particular outcome be guaranteed? She's not irritated, which is a relief. She smiles. Asks the boy if he's having a fun day. Says that she needs to pay more attention. Swims in the opposite direction. The boy's parents decide that it's best that he come out of the water. They were about to leave the beach anyway. ---- How strange it feels, to almost be swept away in uncertainties. What balance there is in having control and not. There is something to accepting the chaos. Realizing how beautiful it is, that there must be some design to it. To be swallowed up by an ocean and have your eyes filled with joy. To be overwhelmed in amazement, how strong, how natural it all is. If you were to consider the breath of God constantly pouring forth it wouldn't feel unlike a tsunami. Unlike the tallness of the trees. Unlike the constant turning of the earth. If one were to find themselves in the midst of tidal waves, and saw a purpose to their life in them, they may begin to swim about, seeing whatever else is being consumed. "[[How did that get there?|The Beach]] Who is this? How incredible that we're here, together?" <<set $ending to $ending += 1>> <<set $fine to 1>> <<if $fine is 1 and $encouraging is 1>> <<set $company to 1>> <</if>>

The mom begins to talk about her son and how much he likes being physical. How he enjoys playing. It's a tone of gratefulness. How he could have not wanted to be here. How he could have quarrelled. He could be someone who centers his life around the things that you don't see bringing him growth. "Any number of shallow things could be overcoming him, but instead he's here, in the the water." It is amazing; to see a kid playing. To see the number of kids here, playing. Laughing. Joyous. ---- It's incredible. The most natural things seems so counter-intuitive to us some times. What it is like to get swept up in moments together. Like being at a friend's house and feeling that there's no reason to escape, no place to escape to, this is where it seems necessary to be. The woman begins to lead the conversation towards them leaving. It's refreshing. There's a yearning to have dinner with them. To share enjoyment of absurdist movies together. But there will be an immediate drifting away. It seems fine, but it is slightly discomforting. It'd be nice to live life with these people. The family is almost to the wall, on the other side, the parking lot, their car... Someone is yelling. A shadow is cast; a colossal wave... "RUN!" Trying to warn the family, trying to catch up to them. "RUN, NOW!" We are in this together. Wholly in this together. Us not knowing anything about each other is not even irrelevant, it's non-existent. We know everything about each other, just about. They have a life. We all are living. [[When the water grabs a hold of us|The Beach]], we're holding onto each other. Right now, it seems so important to be together. <<set $ending to $ending += 1>> <<set $encouraging to 1>> <<if $fine is 1 and $encouraging is 1>> <<set $company to 1>> <</if>>

The water takes the roles both of dance-partner and ballroom. Every limb outstretched is met with cooperative resolve, propelling forward and under, back and up. Tides hoist and dip; catch and release. A breath can be placed beneath the waves, but must be taken outside their domain. <<if $available isnot 1>> [[The shore beckons|The shore is just as readily available.]] <<else>>The shore beckons<</if>> as the dance grows longer, though<<if $tires isnot 1>> [[the water tires not]] <<else>>the water tires not.<</if>>

Though muscles and tendons reach for rest, the music plays on. The pulsing rhythm remains, but it sounds different laying on the sand. What once was a jaunt is now a lullaby; the same tide suggesting such extreme contradictions. Water bulbs up and rolls off skin, dripping into the sand. The glaze of the sun is a blanket of white noise to nerve-ends. With eyes closed the rocking sensation remains, imprinted by the dance of the waves. //The splashes and shrieks of children Idle chatter and murmurs of the mature Footsteps kicking past Engines roar and putter away The ground rumbles Wind stirs up the leaves of trees More engines can be heard far out at sea ... [[It's natural for this constant sound to be tuned out in sleep.|The Beach]] <<set $ending to $ending += 1>> <<set $available to 1>> <<if $tires is 1>><<set $active to 1>><</if>> <<if $drift is 1>><<set $doze to 1>><</if>>

Tsunami Death Life Cove Beach Tides of Life The Drawback Wall of water Last Summer at the Shore Sudden death Sandcastle My Life and Death at the Get Away Being present Agency Perception In the Absence of a Wall A Day in Dissonance Watercolor

A tubby man, standing in a puddle of car fluids leaking from the front of the RV, wears a pair of $400 plain-white boating shorts stained with oil smudges and a lavender t-shirt. He runs a hand through his disarrayed blonde hair and talks into a top-of-the-line smartwatch. Even from a distance—the distress of his life’s situation can be distinctly felt. “Hey are you pulling out? You’re taking up two spaces man, that’s illegal.” The tubby man looks up at the umpteenth driver to ask this question and shakes his head, resulting in another raised middle finger, and watches the car [[return|the town]] to the back of the line. The heat from the RV’s engine begins to [[warp the air above the hood|Humid, hot Summer air]]. The latest up beat alt-wave song about how "girls just want to have a good time too” starts to shake the RV. In this moment, the man sees the stains on his shorts and decides to abandon the vehicle; walking past [[the well-worn beach trail|The sand]] and towards [[an overgrown dirt path|the man 2]].

<<if $summer is 1 and $folks is 1 and $cove is 1>> <<set $no_sand to 1>> <</if>> <<if $embrace isnot 1>>Traffic is moderate, relative to the two-lane, two-way road marking the unofficial border crossing [[into town|walking into town]]. Its mild persistence mimics that of the tide with an uncanny similarity. There is uniformity in the traffic's collective trajectory, yet each vehicle houses stories in transit. Each moment pushes forth from the past into the present, drifting toward what's next. Who's to say each drop of water in the tide is not so deliberate? The tide rolls to shore, then sinks below the microchasms created by <<if $no_sand isnot 1>>[[granules of coarse sand|The sand]]<<else>>granules of coarse sand<</if>>. <<else>>[Ending Text] Invasive and without warning, like the presence of a foreign enemy, a rushing wall of seawater assaults the land. The tsunami takes no heed of the lines drawn or the territory staked out. If anything it'd be all the more convincing to argue that each swell of the tide were a deep, contemplative breath, pulling together the focus and force to claim both the beach and the streets. [[Surely, each drop of water is not so deliberate?|The Beach]] <<set $intersecting_street to 1>> <<set $ending to $ending += 1>> <</if>>

The sand seemingly lazes about, just as <<if $folks isnot 1>>[[those who rest upon it now|elderly sunbathers and folks]]<<else>>those who rest upon it now<</if>>. White gold specks of rock, bleached from countless hours of baking under <<if $summer isnot 1>>[[the sun's gaze|Humid, hot Summer air]]<<else>>the sun's gaze<</if>>. Every ounce of weight that crosses the beach makes its impression, each inch recorded. These meetings are short-lived; little histories overwritten easily and with no great amount of effort are they able to be preserved. The sand seems to take indifference unto its heritage of <<if $water_end isnot 1>>[[formless waters|the water]]<<else>>formless waters<</if>> and <<if $cove isnot 1>>[[unchanging earth|the ocean cove]]<<else>>unchanging earth<</if>>.

Freedom from gravity makes for any conceivable contortion: Baseless pirouettes; Featherfall through dips; Inversion, the fluid transition beneath the blue. Songs beneath the water are not unlike the winds above which always carry a tune. Momentum without motion. This contradiction of silence and sound makes space for the crescendo. Like every story, each song has an [[end.|The Beach]] <<set $tires to 1>> <<set $ending to $ending += 1>> <<if $available is 1>><<set $active to 1>><</if>>

A caress of momentum sways in any given direction. Cold water laps at skin exposed to the sun's relentless radiance. Floating in the water can be much like tipping a four-legged chair back; the act of sitting becomes an act of balance. There are forces in place to keep constant; a body floats as an arm reaches out for an anchor. With the task maintained, one yields the reward of simple freedoms. However, reward is not without risk. The undertow, unforeseen, draws quickly. The sun was no anchor. Pressure increasing as gravity resumes its role. The chair tips back too far, [[tumulting into rapid depths.|The Beach]] <<set $ending to $ending += 1>> <<set $drift to 1>> <<if $available is 1>><<set $doze to 1>><</if>>

A pair of old gentlemanly-looking fellows are stationed near a small corner of the cove, away from the noisy populace. Manning a pair of folding beach chairs and an umbrella as old as them, the two look in place there as much as a painting does in a museum. The two men take a break from their stoic staring at the horizon. "We don't want what you're selling fellow. We have come to this spot to die, so scoot!" Several tense seconds pass by. No one is ever prepared to receive words in that way. The man who did not speak can no longer keep his composure. With more of a wheezing then whooping, the two men enjoy a good laugh. "Old boy, you get better with that delivery every time!" says the man who broke character first. He gives a rowdy slap on the back of other. "Fret not, we're just a couple of old dogs who like to muck about our last days at the beach. You'll have to forgive us for [[our little joke|The Beach]], but it usually drives away the chaps that wouldn't amuse us in the first place! Gotta make every minute count these days." <<set $ending to $ending += 1>> <<set $old to 1>>

[[Encounter.]]

[[Embrace.]]

The rumble in the earth is hardly warning enough for the hand of water reaching into the streets from the sea. Food trucks wash into the streets, their menus pouring out and mixing together with wares offered by the once-canned, now liberated, sardines. Colorful vacation merchandise mixes together with debris and bodies. The town's history now swirling and smashing and soaking together with the surroundings that permitted the start of its life. [[End.|The Beach]]

**Watercolors** [[New Game|The Beach]] <<set $ending to 0>> Continue previous game on the sidebar.

The man meanders over bramble and fiddles with his smartwatch. The hellish soundscape of [[the parking lot]] slowly fades away, being replaced by the tweets of little birds and the hum of big insects. [[The cliffside face|the ocean cove]] stretches above and provides some blessed shade. A yelp breaks the peace as the tubby man trips over an overgrown tree root and falls face-first into the dirt. Laying motionless for several minutes, [[a stillness settles upon the leveled man|man 3]]. A light breeze blows in and carries with it the smell of sea salt and [[washed up kelp|The sand]].

The tubby man rises to a sitting position and assess the damage of the fall. Branches have torn dozens of pin sized holes in his shirt, a rock slightly scraped his knee, and worst of all— the impact broke the face of his smartwatch. A recorded voice begins to play from the dented wrist accessory. “I’m going to take Dr.D’s advice and start an audio diary as my New Years resolution. I haven’t found a good app for this yet so for now I’m just going to shoot videos and cover the phone camera with my thumb. Honestly, this seems like the perfect excuse for me to get a smartwatch. It feels kind of funny talking to myself in the backyard, I’m a little nervous that the neighbor is going to overhear me and that everything I say will be spread around as second-hand gossip.” With no way to control the watch, the man shakes his arm violently as if it was a baby rattle. “So I bought another lavender shirt today. I know I’ve got like a dozen other ones but I just loved the shade of this new one in the boutique light. Even though nobody seems to be able to tell the difference when I wear them, it makes me feel like it’s okay to be me when I choose the right hue for the day. It’s like I’m saying to myself, ‘go Burt go!’” Wiping the dirt off his hands, Burt picks himself up and stares blankly at the receding tide. A slow change begins to overtake his demeanor. “It’s been two weeks since I barbecued bratwurst and I’ve counted every day without one. I’ve lost a few pounds but I don’t know if it’s worth it any more to be honest. The idea of getting fun new clothes and looking good was great in my head, but I forgot about the reality that is shopping for pants which fit. Lately I’ve just been wearing stretchy pants all the time and it’s honestly kind of depressing. If I’m not going to be content with my body image, I should at least [[get to eat some good beer-blasted bratwursts|man 4]].”

Hearing this, Burt pats his tummy a few times and nods his head. Grabbing his belly with both hands—Burt gives his plump beer gut a good shake and laughs like nobodies watching. The joy only lasts a minute, but his face turns red from smiling. Burt stands with hands on his hips, flush with the feelings of catharsis. The audio from the watch continues to play but can’t be heard over the sharp increase in wind speed. In the distance—a wave begins to grow and take unusual shape. It rises slowly at first, but the soon-to-be results of its formation become unmistakable. Turning on his heel, Burt runs with newfound grace and vigor. He hurdles a bush of vines and barely notices as the thrones carve red streaks into his fleshy calves. As he strides across broken stones that threaten to roll his ankles, snippets of [[the watch recordings|man 5]] carry downwind...

“I think I’m okay with this.” - - - “Should I still be upset?” - - - “[[I’m ready to move on.|man 6]]”

The sky darkens and the air pressure drops as Burt arrives at the jammed-up parking lot. A teenage girl with hair the color of a summer auburn stands in the door of the RV and awaits her fathers return. Although he arrives out of breath, Burt’s effort affords him enough time for a deep embrace that lifts his daughter off her feet and into his strong arms. The wind stops howling in the final moment as he whispers to her, “Hey, remember when we wrote [[that song| man 7]] together?”

It’s okay to feel depressed sometimes, It’s alright to cry yourself to sleep at night. Next time this feeling comes along— Just remember this song, And [[sing|The Beach]] until it’s gone. <<set $the_man to 1>> <<set $ending to $ending += 1>>