When my mind cuts loose on an early drizzly walk along the beach, what I see arranges itself into groupings, and then the eye picks out things that feed that motif. This morning, as the light broke though clouds, the sea mist rose, and I saw the world through rain specks on my glasses, two motifs emerged: ridges and junctions. I like such free fall walks, because the eye selects what it wouldn't otherwise notice, and fails to notice things it may have seen. Thus it becomes a unique ramble, funneled thusly rather than otherwise.