The pier is a rickety-looking wooden construction that extends out into the bay. It has somehow managed to stay standing despite its ominous swaying whenever there are high winds. There are wooden railings in place, although these have rotten away in places so it isn’t advisable to put too much weight on them.
A kind of melancholic trance in which you become completely absorbed in vivid sensory details—raindrops skittering down a window, tall trees leaning in the wind, clouds of cream swirling in your coffee—briefly soaking in the experience of being alive, an act that is done purely for its own sake.
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