Sea

The sound of the sea is
  1) illusory
  2) not noticed
  3) noticed but not cared about
  4) cared about for a practical reason
  5) cared about for a general, poetic, artistic, or life-center reason
  6) ?
 
No matter whether perceived or not, or how it is perceived, the sound has the
same reason: the boom thrum thrum of the impellment of strong ocean against
bashed tides by leavings trials and leanings of wind. So a child becomes a poet
and is impractical. He never learns how to use the sea. So a child becomes
scientific and eludes its suggestions. Together they both live however in a world
that includes (and importantly) the sea.
 
  How do you like the ocean this A.M.? Beautiful, isn’t it?
  Ranging from a velocity of forty miles an hour, etc. etc.
  Mrs. Parkman is really interesting.
  Why? what did she say that I can deposit in my account?
 
R-R R-R-R-R-Roar RUSH rush … Sfooroom …
 
  I found a quarter this morning lying in the sand at White Peach Beach.
  Show it to me show it to me show it …
  Taking it she touched his hand and that day, affectively, was over.
The next day there were still a lot of battered-looking barks on ocean surface.

Life does nothing to change it. Does it change us? We obviously are different
from it. Proof:
  possession of ears, a mouth, a nose
Insofar then as we can talk about it, everything (except for the real problems)
is solved.
  She is excited to be spending so much time in the salt water and in the
sun. If only he had known how little time he was, comparatively, putting into
his (psychological and emotional) investigations of her salt-slaked body. The
ocean was making a noise that was in no way a reminder, and was completely
unpolitical, too.
  A political movement resembling the ocean should be thought about only
on a page.
  It keeps reminding them of health, and in a way, too, of love and delicious
sex.
  The sea is neither masculine nor feminine but a great gross encourager of
both.
  By the time she had the ideal view of it, for her it was too late. And that
was true of him, too. Nonetheless in the absence and in the ill of it, in the near-
missing and in the concussion that was in reality too the confusion, they went
on hearing it and being approached by it, from time to time, as if they were
still in the perfect apprehension of their senses and could stroke it, to make it
roll, contented, away.
 
  The resort closes. One more season! Or one less! A note is pinned to the
door:
 
            No cats
           No helmets
            No billboards
         No sound of the winter Z
            PROHIBITED!
 
And not even in the evening do they or any come back.