From another late summer visit to the mouth of the Hoh River and the beach at Oil City--a curious name for such an absence. Massive sitka logs piled by water and time. Among them, in what almost seem like rooms, one can duck out of the wind and sit on varying floors of driftwood, ovoid rocks, or sand. A full moonrise not long after sunset, beginning high in the hollows of the forest's edge and arcing to a resting point by early morning on the sea. But for its seagulls, wind, surf and crows, it's a quiet place until it's stirred...
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