25 Hours from Nowhere

A couple of weeks ago, after a nice slidey session on a cold sunny morning, I had a yarn with a fella who was excited just to get sand in between his toes, let alone enjoy the small clean peelers that were happening. He told me he works in the mines six hours west of here. He gets to see the sea for three weeks and then has to go back to the dust of the mines for three weeks. On and off, over and over whether it's pumping or not, so he can put a roof over his kids' heads. This post is for you, buddy. Two different angles of the same spot taken 25 hours apart.