Wonderful day for visibility from up here, having climbed up out of his canyon, Nick scans over to the ocean, so close, like pudding, chrome clay just beyond that hill, Carlsbad or Leucadia, Oceanside, San Clemente, Catalina island he practically sees the dock, San Nicolas he sees the glare of the sun careen off the hills.

He has sugar cookies cooking in his stone bread oven, from up here he discerns the heat rising in a shaft, diluting its reality, escaping into the clouds.

"They're just about done." He says to himself, and makes his way back.

"I'm like a dwarf up here." He thinks, perched on the little portico's stone retainment wall, the heat from the oven emanating out of the windows and onto his back.

"I should have made a pizza."


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