A boatyard glitch results in a sunken vessel; they
can't drag it out of the water but must lift instead.
A hoist, and curious type of boat-sling arrive. A
few old geezers stand around watching, while two
house-wife mothers jog by - they are louder, in
their messages almost sung to each other on the
run, as the noise of the crane and sling.
Seagulls fret for the negatives, and swirl and stage
as the work unfolds - the action-spit of tide and
water twirl together. All of this, and nothing gets
undermined, just as the achievement of what was
first attempted comes to fruition. We salt the earth
with our sweats and get our work done early.