Drift Line

The magical space between high and low tides is one of my favourite places.

Twice a day the push-and-pull of the sea brings discoveries. Glass floats. Fishing line. Driftwood. Shells. Seaweed. Broken bottles. Litter.

On one recent trip I found a nearly complete shell of a red rock crab. In life it is mostly red, except for the black tip on each claw. But the open, empty shell is worthy of a painter’s palette — red, orange, yellow, mauve, brown, white.

Who would have guessed?

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