Maybe it was the slate-hued sky or the bone dampening chill but there was something terminal about Sunset Beach this Saturday in February. Here, and about here, were ruins and remains of technological systems in various states of decay all eroded by the elements and circumvented by time. Tired fathers in Volvo wagons, in perhaps their only hours of freedom, peered out on the horizon to watch three long tankers sluggishly inch across the horizon. A teenager slinked around with a metal detector, occasionally slinging change out of his scoop. And all the while the breakers broke on the back of the Concrete Ship, Atlantus. Ill fated, moribund, epitome of all progress — it was nevertheless a fixture of Sunset Point. The tired comedian always on the bill. Here could have been some craggy point of Atlantus; with the husks of our civilization all around us, the Army Corps pumps working ceaselessly to forestall the rising tides, far off ships ignorant to our plight.
Sunset Beach
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I loved this!