Moonshine summoned the Spanish Flyers to the seemingly supernatural island bathed in blue moon rays where castles made of sand fall into the sea.
The human transport rental unit was hastily filled with worldly human effects as flesh tingled with the prospect of what was to come on the mentally projected horizon.
Rolling asphalt ribbon mode was traded for the first ferry boat out of Horseshoe Bay, a total of three ships carrying motor vehicles successfully melted any accumulated tensions put on us by metropolis living.
Greeted by the slow and friendly pace of local inhabitants on this stash spot of rocks and trees, the Spanish Flyers folded into the mix as molten lava had done so many years before.
"You must be our skimboarders". The gliding devices and the electrified meat they carried had gained some pre-cognition in the minds and hearts of those who exist in this special place.
Modern teepees huddled near water's edge and charged youth mastered the art of skimming the earth's surface in a wild-eyed yet tactful assault on Gilles Bay.
Lungs and hearts drank in the sea, the air, the sun, the stars and the blue moon of Texada.
