Memory of a Moment

$20.00

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"

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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"