I spent this past week in my favorite state in this wretched country: Florida. It’s an embarrassing truth to admit for a long list of reasons, most of which would get my writing banned in said state if I were to speak truthfully about them. But high on the list of reasons to love Florida are its beautiful beaches, which provide me with ample opportunity to live out my true calling in this life: collecting sea shells.
I bring home the shells I find. Too many of them. This time they’re from the Gulf Coast of Florida, but often the shells are from beaches in Queens or Delaware. I bring the shells back to my Brooklyn apartment and then I have absolutely no clue what to do with them. Last summer, I had one extraordinarily lucky day finding beach glass on the shores of Fort Tilden and brought home about 20 foggy blue, green, and white soft shards. They are still in the front pocket of my bike pannier.
I am approaching maximum capacity for shells. I haven’t reached hoarding levels by any means but with no follow-up or display plan for these shells, a problem looms! Yet, I can’t stop. I can’t stop searching for them on the beach—seeking out the perfect swirl of colors, imagining their journey from deep sea snail home to abandoned on the shore. I can’t stop running my fingers along the smoothed edges, hypnotized by their mathematical magnificence.
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Source: WIRED - 🏆 555. / 51 Read more »