Mark (Hartman)

I slipped under the crystal curtain; the outside world vanished. All that mattered was the amber glow of the setting sun. I willed myself towards the light. Long forgotten were tomorrow’s deadlines. Then, suddenly as if by a kiss of liquid sunshine, I was free of the ocean’s saline embrace; free to face tomorrow’s deadlines, or not. I paddled back out for 1 more, or maybe 2 or 3. Tomorrow can wait. A Surfer’s Dream.