i run on the hard part of the sand, where the last wave has made moire patterns on the surface. already blisters are forming beneath the hard skin on the pads of my toes. for a while i follow meandering bicycle tyre tracks – 2 friends in the morning riding along the shore – that find a path through the small black inscrutable stones on the littoral shore. so smooth, i want to put one in my mouth and suck it. i sequester one in my pocket. its calm surface communicates with me. there is a humming resonance, just below audible, but i feel it.