Light
flashes across the water and is gone, like headlights across the wall
of a dark room where someone is lying awake. It happens so
quickly, no way to take back the things that were said. Your son
drove headlong into a train. Your daughter is in a Mexican
jail. It's a house passed at eighty miles an hour. Did
anyone live there? The night, the sea, the wind and the rocks,
the terrible current off shore. . . It is good to see the light
across the water. It is a warning. This is the place where
the land ends and the water begins or the water ends and the land
begins. Either way is dangerous
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