Standing on the smooth sandy beach at the east end of the pond, in a calm September afternoon, when a slight haze makes the opposite shore-line indistinct, I have seen whence came the expression, "the glassy surface of a lake."
He glared at the ocean and strode up the beach littered with wood, boats, and cars, to the highway.
She twisted to see into the beach house.
Gabriel stayed on the beach until the sun began to set.
Sometimes when you look at a grain of sand in your hand, you forget that there couldn't be a beach without every one of them.
:)
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