We follow our map. We travel from inland sound to ocean shore. We can hear the roar of the waves. We can smell the brine on the wind. We lick our chapped lips. We settle into our cabin to weather the night.
"A shore, then, is the ultimate boundary between two worlds. If you're not at sea, you're on the shore."
—page 326, Home Ground: Language for an American Landscape, from the entry "Shore" by Luis Alberto Urrea
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