Wednesday’s Santana

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SurfingIn the old days, I remember a wind that would blow down through the canyons. It was a hot wind, called a Santana. And it carried with it the smell of warm places. It blew the stongest before dawn across the Point.

My friends and I would sleep in our cars and the smell of the off-shore wind would often wake us. And each morning we knew this would be a special day.

Big Wednesday, opening monologue