The witch fell asleep on the beach, later ran into
the sea to challenge breakers that threatened to
turn everyone head over heels, only the crocodile
witch and a few young men and kids remained in
the aquamarine of the high-tide sea, braving the
breakers like Spanish bull-fighters who spin off to
the side as the froth charges like bulls foaming at
the mouth, the witch came home to a scene of
peace and discovered her swimsuit is shockingly
un-magical and totally boring, having filled with
sand in the churning shallows the fibrous fabric
refuses to let the sand go and she will have to cut
the fabric to let out the sand, what a sad thing to
do, altering the brand-new suit, witching without
magicking is no fun and suffering sunburn from
sleeping in the sun adds no new delights to the
existential quest for meaning in life…
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