In lieu of an abstract, below is the essay's first paragraph.
"The sun was warm on our backs as we stepped out of the car and our shoes, and into our lives for the week. The breeze was fresh and sprayed with mist from the ocean. The air was easy and flowing. The only tension on the island could be found on the clothesline where towels of various colors and origins were hanging, waiting to be used. The road was strewn with sand, and the only bare spots that could be seen were where some car from whereabouts unknown had scattered it, exposing the road for a short period of time. However, it wasn't long before the small, bristly plants, trying their best to hold the dunes in place, succumbed to the moving forces of sand, and the bare spots were buried once again. Long before the luggage was out of hibernation in the trunk, we were running over the road, as the sand grinded beneath our bare white feet, across the wooden walkway, warped from years of storms, ten to fifteen planks at a time, over the small stairs, rising over the dunes, and we were stopped ead in our tracks, as if coming face to face with a brick wall, as the sheer volume of it all hit us."
"War At Sea,"
The Angle: Vol. 2009
, Article 17.
Available at: https://fisherpub.sjfc.edu/angle/vol2009/iss2/17