BRUSHSTROKE Eugenie Juliet Theall
Mist encircles beachgrass; salt-spray on my cheek. The ocean stretches to meet sky—the definitive line in a modernist painting, the dance between two shades of blue, where schoolchildren sit at the feet of the tour guide, not fully comprehending its simplicity—how eternity is captured in one long stroke. One child understood. Her eyes grew large. She rocked back, recognizing its depth, and I knew when she brushed fallen hair from her face, she had discovered salt.
86