I’ve talked about the cliffs — here they are.  Or, at least, one portion of them.  They are really sand, not rock, and vulnerable.  They shouldn’t be climbed, and kids do it all the time.  Dangerous.  Soft and hard.  Forbidding?  Not enough, apparently.

Here they look monumental, and remind me of abstracted versions of the terra cotta warriors of Xi’an.

No sign of yesterday’s hawk.  The trees at the base of the cliff were empty.  Empty of hawk, anyway.

Sometimes I feel empty of hawk.