by the sea now, in the land of the indalo. algeria is just over to the left, morocco off to the right. if i flew northwards, diagonally across spain~just a hop, a skip, and a jump~i would wind up in finisterre. here, i come down to the beach and watch the sea boiling, a pot of molten silver. palm trees line the boardwalk where i wander, dancing rhumba to the sounds of the wind. what is this place? it is the start of a walk. the end of anticipation. the day i start walking is going to be a full moon. projects coming to fruition. time to harvest.