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(Stare the large window.)
I stare out of the large window frosted in sunlight. The seagulls debate early in the morning, flying high over the tipped-up roofs.
(Sunlight-seagulls debate in morning.)

(High the tipped-up roofs.)
My ears open, letting in the rushing sound of crashing, golden waves. I imagine them smacking themselves against the rocks.
(Open letting in sound.)

(Them smacking against.)
One by one each bubbling valley opening to a crash of white thunder, stretching out across the crawling sand, licking up pebbles before dragging them back under the sea.
(Up pebbles.)

Stare the large window.