First Impressions of Mazunte

A first night passed. A night of sounds. Familiar sounds, but in a never-been-there-before place. Sounds of steady breezes, and sounds of surf. Then came light, increasing in strength, and I rose to see what could be seen.

Which was this.

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Nearby, soft scratching sounds betrayed a raker.

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Pacific waves of size and strength built, rose from the smooth inshore water, and fell, four times a minute, on the beach below.

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On a step were physical impressions from a day when the concrete had not yet set.

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I kept noticing angles, and triangles.

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At a nearby cabin, looking out to sea, a daughter contemplated the morning.

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Another daughter, resting, contemplated connections, on a screen.

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Soon afterward, we went down the hundred-and-eighty-seven stone steps,  down a stonepaved street, and headed into town.

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Art on a hillside retaining wall had a perfectly placed shadow.

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We settled in to a restaurant patio, and started to study Mazunte.

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We hope to be good students.

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