LUE-GREEN, white-capped ocean stretched to meet the horizon. The wind dried my lips; and coarse, golden sand burned my bare feet. "I must remember this exactly as it is— the taste of salt, the color of the sky—the richness of it, the haze where it meets the ocean," I thought. "This last swim must be perfect."...
Johnson, Stella Lou
"Sand and Salt Water,"
Sketch: Vol. 10
, Article 13.
Available at: http://lib.dr.iastate.edu/sketch/vol10/iss3/13