Memory of a Moment
Every piece of driftwood has a story. Among my favorites are the burned pieces of wood from beach fires. They are aesthetically pleasing: the charcoal has mostly been worn away, leaving the raised grain, and a sort of velvety texture. There's a lingering incense of smoke. Mostly, they retain the memory of a moment. Friends gathered around a fire talking. Lovers snuggling against the cold, the waves lapping languorously nearby. Some of the most magical moments of my life have unfolded around a beach fire. I've also gotten a fair number of citations, since they're banned just about everywhere. When beach fires are outlawed, only outlaws will have beach fires!
"And take me disappearing through the smoke rings of my mind
Down the foggy ruins of time
Far past the frozen leaves
The haunted frightened trees
Out to the windy beach
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky
With one hand waving free
Silhouetted by the sea
Circled by the circus sands
With all memory and fate
Driven deep beneath the waves
Let me forget about today until tomorrow."
— Bob Dylan, "Mr. Tambourine Man"
Every piece of driftwood has a story. Among my favorites are the burned pieces of wood from beach fires. They are aesthetically pleasing: the charcoal has mostly been worn away, leaving the raised grain, and a sort of velvety texture. There's a lingering incense of smoke. Mostly, they retain the memory of a moment. Friends gathered around a fire talking. Lovers snuggling against the cold, the waves lapping languorously nearby. Some of the most magical moments of my life have unfolded around a beach fire. I've also gotten a fair number of citations, since they're banned just about everywhere. When beach fires are outlawed, only outlaws will have beach fires!
"And take me disappearing through the smoke rings of my mind
Down the foggy ruins of time
Far past the frozen leaves
The haunted frightened trees
Out to the windy beach
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky
With one hand waving free
Silhouetted by the sea
Circled by the circus sands
With all memory and fate
Driven deep beneath the waves
Let me forget about today until tomorrow."
— Bob Dylan, "Mr. Tambourine Man"
Every piece of driftwood has a story. Among my favorites are the burned pieces of wood from beach fires. They are aesthetically pleasing: the charcoal has mostly been worn away, leaving the raised grain, and a sort of velvety texture. There's a lingering incense of smoke. Mostly, they retain the memory of a moment. Friends gathered around a fire talking. Lovers snuggling against the cold, the waves lapping languorously nearby. Some of the most magical moments of my life have unfolded around a beach fire. I've also gotten a fair number of citations, since they're banned just about everywhere. When beach fires are outlawed, only outlaws will have beach fires!
"And take me disappearing through the smoke rings of my mind
Down the foggy ruins of time
Far past the frozen leaves
The haunted frightened trees
Out to the windy beach
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky
With one hand waving free
Silhouetted by the sea
Circled by the circus sands
With all memory and fate
Driven deep beneath the waves
Let me forget about today until tomorrow."
— Bob Dylan, "Mr. Tambourine Man"