The women, and I use that term loosely, continued their approach towards Woody. In case you were wondering, physical attributes mattered little to me, I judged people on their intentions. And while that meant that I was not always able to speak-conclusively-on behalf of what I saw, my memory bank made sure that I learned from my experiences and never needed a lesson to be repeated. As I was saying, these “women” were closing in, now in a circular vicinity of the lifeguard. I was becoming comfortable interchanging the words Woody and lifeguard once again. For awhile there, I was not sure if either should be considered names, descriptions or synonyms for remorse. So, one woman, if I was okay with oscilating options for the recurring entity who made imperfect sense, I would have to extend that same courtesy to that which was unknown. But, if I was judging based upon intentions, and not on outward appearance, would that not signal that what I was seeing was in fact, familiar and understood? Perhaps this brief, yet very necessary distraction, was how Woody came to find himself stretched, as one of the uglies was suddenly in front, and to his left, while the other nasty was behind him, and to his right. I paused for a split second, because I thought I heard a noise that sounded like a tape being rewound, but it was just a terse slapping between two hurrying waves. Predictably, the parties to the natural world were quick to reach a binding agreement. WIth the seas restored to a full calm, I could retrieve my focus. Now, I was unsure if my mind was readying to make a suggestion or a “nasty” remark. And then, I caught myself flailing, an objecting breeze making sure I saw my sides lifting high, separating from my cowering skin. Had I been doing this all along, making quotations in the air, or was a third party pleading with me to refrain from constructing labels birthed by materials that had spoiled, were outdated, or worse yet, unadvanced ? Still, I made sure to keep my eyes on what was transpiring, a few hundred yards closer to the shore. The woman in front of “Woody” was pulling hard on a leather strap, while the woman to the rear of the “lifeguard” was fumbling with a metal clasp. I thought I saw everyone’s lips beginning to slap…but I had come to realize…that was the sound that a tape makes when the ribbon is becoming twisted…and its lessons are no longer intact.