We rounded the corner, went down the street. The boats in the inner harbour were all afloat. "It's in," we both said at the same time. The wind hit us in the face, we heard the crashing of the waves as we half run round the next corner and stand up the incline to the outer harbour. The low-tide beach was gone, under the full moon the tide was surging wildly against the breakwater, spray was flying and the sea was breaking half way up the steps. And the wind, the wind, the ...

Turtle Diary by Russell Hoban.
Olaf Schneider (Nexter Tailor)

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