Alameda, California — July 20, 2024

July twentieth, twenty twenty-four. Alameda, California. I walked out to the water's edge near sundown. The bay was flat and rippled, the kind of surface that takes a low sun and breaks it into a thousand small mirrors. Across the channel a dark tree line held the far shore. Reeds at my feet, orange fading into a pale blue-gray overhead. I stayed until the sun was gone, making it's rounds over lands I'm eager to walk.