Paradoxical Parallel Lines

The Tea-Infused Typewriter

I’d done a free style writing thing yesterday and posted whatever I wrote in ten minutes or so. However, I felt like it was heading somewhere so I continued the piece and came up with this:

Paradoxical Parallel Lines

The sound of the sea kissing the shore splayed in the air. My hands were chilled from the cold, hiding in my pockets as I made my way across the beach. It was a rare place, where the ocean and the cold met and mingled, but where no one else ever did. It had become my place of wandering, deserted and lonely but peaceful and if anything at all, I needed that.

Toes digging into the pastel tinged sand, I made my way towards a few rocks jutting out, cutting the sea with their sharp lines and crevices as if they were right angles dissecting a white page. Reminding me of…

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