I could not have found a different beach on the western end of the continent: Pescadero State Beach, California. Cold, rocky, foggy, nearly deserted – I bundled up tightly as I wandered down from the parking lot. Took the duct tape with “ATLANTIC OCEAN” written on it from the bottle it had been sealing for two months, and let it fly. The water bloomed in the air, fell into the Pacific, and it was done.
Quirky and strange thing to do, but oddly fitting.

