I float-surfed/played buoy the biggest session of my life at the South Shore (or any where ever) this past week. I wouldn't call it surfing, unless pooping your pants on your board counts. I was definitely scared but I was surprised I wasn't panicked and didn't hyperventilate—I think a silly part of me forgets how dangerous something can be because of how gut-wrenchingly beautiful and magnificent something is—it seems the only danger that could come out of it is my heart exploding from being so shamelessly emo.
This little 5x5 reminds me of some of the bulldozers that rolled through in front of Kaimana. I call it "Poopie".