The naked man in the sun, casting a shadow on the sand by the ocean in the summer between work weeks, with months to go before any hint of cold in the fall with the leaves and the trees of pre snow and post heat, wearing nothing for lack of trying, staying warm in the hot breeze in the sun and on the warm sand, worried for nothing more than the times of the tides and where he left his towel and shoes and pants and wallet that holds his drinking money looks around at the clouds in the sky and the clean air all about him and thinks something plain, like:


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