I came over the hill hungover from a morning sinking beer with a random bunch of methheads, after a night aslseep in a Dominos carpark. I was a few hours down the road now. I was in a better place.
It’d been like… 20 years almost. Since I’d been to Margaret River.
I remembered the way to Gracetown.
I felt like a touro as I found my way along the headland to watch the break. With the other touros.
As locals ran out and launched off the rocks into the fresh swell.
‘Look at all these hardcore surfer cunts with their jetski mates’ I thought as the duo on the jetski hooted and claimed a surfers silhouetted slotted-ness
And She was hardly breaking yet.