Found this story about surf memories, could relate to it…
A few weeks ago I watched a surf school putting a group of kids through their paces. You know the stuff: They lie on soft boards making paddling motions then jump to their feet with their arms outstretched. I wondered briefly if anyone actually does surf like that anymore. Arms outstretched in that manner, I mean. Certainly to freeze in that position, which they all did, would be fatal on anything more significant than a tiny foamie. And there was something anachronistic about it: the wetsuits suddenly appearing like neck to knee c
ostumes, the whole scene, already monochromatic under a grey sky, like something from an old black and white newsreel. A small absurdist moment, shown now only to elicit laughter. Imagine thinking such bizarre practices could actually assist anyone learning to surf! Their stark rigidity so profoundly contrasting the essential fluidity of surfing itself. Their conformity mocking the central conceit of the individuality of our styles.
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