Yesterday, I did 1,031 words on the story that was, previously, titled "Teratophobia." Now, thanks to cliff52, it will be titled "Sanderlings," as he pointed out what a nice title that would make, not even knowing how well the title fits this story. It had not occurred to me until his comment to yesterday's entry.

Not a whole lot else to say about yesterday. It was cloudy, then sunny, then cloudy, then sunny. That sort of day. It's chilly here in Providence (sunny today), but nowhere near as cold as this time last year. I signed books for eBay customers, and Spooky went to the post office. We shared a marvelous corned beef and cole-slaw sandwich for lunch (which I only occasionally eat). While I read, she got Chinese takeout for our dinner. Later, we watched Fight Club again, which was, not inappropriately, the first movie we ever saw together at the theatre. And that was a decade ago, which just fucking astounds me. Anyway, I got to bed about 2:30 a.m., and slept until 11:30, something like nine hours (!!!), the most I've slept at a stretch in..well...a very long time, and I did it without Ambien.

And now, here's a third set of photos from our trip to Green Hill on Wednesday. This one I call, "In the Bunker":





Sea oats, at least seven feet tall; view to the northeast.



We came upon this huge concrete "bunker." I really have no idea what it might have once been, to what end it was manufactured. I can only imagine how long it must have been sitting on the beach. View to the north.



Words of wisdom from America's 28th president, for that special touch of surreality.



And then we get a yin-yang sun and graffiti from the author of Peter Pan. Do lost boys live in the "bunker"? Lost girls? Lost children with no gender?





Note the mermaid's purse and starfish just outside the "bunker."





View of the sea from the "bunker;" view to the southwest.

All photographs Copyright © 2009 by Caitlín R. Kiernan and Kathryn A. Pollnac