Sandy sidewalks splashed with sun. Mild traffic drifting down the hot asphalt of Ocean Avenue. A noisy pickup truck rattles by, jammed full of migrant workers and happy tongue-hanging dogs. The sun is a white disc somewhere directly above, signifying noon. A barefoot jogger wearing only shorts. Two kids jumping back and forth through a sprinkler. Sand already infiltrating her flip-flops. It’s so hot out today.

    Noon already? It’s so hard to tell, time here is more of an ambience than an actual moving force. In lieu of clocks there are the ebb and flow of tides, the wind beneath kites, the remaining liquid in a bottle of rum.