I'm reminded of Palestine on Pebble Beach and think of the river to the inland sea. It will be gone when the Army Corps of Engineers dumps infill and rip rock and concrete on the beach that moves back and forth and in and out, and I hear the sound of waves in the pebbles I want to record before it's gone, and listen in my sleep. It will be gone, and we will be gone, but think of these things that weave us into the present passing. Think of everything that is here and passing.