Alon Z / Art / Malibu

A flock of small birds were soaking their feet in the water as we walked along the shore line. It was easy to tell that I’m not from here from the way I was holding my sneakers in my hands with the socks folded inside. I took them off after we climbed down on the rocks and now walking on the dry sand carefully seeing that my feet were out of the water, I also pay attention not to drop them.

For a moment Sara walks ahead of me, getting closer to another group of birds of the same kind, when she realizes how far I am she stops and waves. Unlike me, her feet make contact with the water on every step, she says that she’ll dry them when we get back to the car. It’s thanksgiving time, so the expectations that we’ll actually get in the water are very low. We keep walking south along the coast, coming across more birds. Sometimes Sara gets closer and holds my hand for a moment, then she lets go realizing that it’s too much effort, and then she changes her mind.

I look at the beach houses facing the ocean and think about the people who live there, then I think of myself as a bird watching enthusiast, and how I can immediately recognize their kind, where they came from and where they were headed. It’s a lie, but I feel comfortable indulging with the fantasy for a moment. Sara says when she was young she used to read books about dogs and that she can name almost any dog type, she doesn’t know much about birds either.