My happy place is that chaotic zone of salt and spray where the beach meets the sea, a place of coming and going, flux and exchange. I love to dig my toes into the suctioning sand and feel the swirl of a receding wave. Though often my feet find sharp things in the soft sand—not just gravel and pebbles but also, increasingly and overwhelmingly, plastic. I try to collect the shards, the bits of aquas, whites, and teals, but soon I give up, angry and defeated. There is too much. So much of it is too tiny to hold or even see.
from Wirecutter: Reviews for the Real World https://ift.tt/2Qe0s21
