i'm beginning to see beaches differently. we went down to one of the granite-strewn ones and i tottered after him in my work skirt as he lept like a fecking leaping thing from rock to rock, not slipping on any of the lichen or moss or bird poo or anything. then he stopped, suddenly, outlined by the sunset, and began stacking. balancing rock on rock, slowly, his hands all tiny movement and centering. i wanted to try but felt too shy, and limited myself to offering rocks that looked promising. some tourists came by and took hesitant pictures, and at one point i was distracted by seagulls and when i looked back he'd finished, and there it was, five rocks standing perfectly against the sky. a transitory beauty made of pure permanance. he told me that once they'd made one taller than they were and named it, that once a bird landed on a just-finished stack and stood there calm and preening before flying off. i watched the kelp against the sand and felt the wind and tried to balance myself, too.