IT IS THE FIRST DAY OF NOVEMBER AND SO, TODAY, SOMEONE WILL DIE.
Even under the brightest sun, the frigid autumn sea is all the colors of the night: dark blue and black and brown. I watch the ever-changing patterns in the sand as it's pummeled by countless hooves.
They run the horses on the beach, a pale road between the black water and the chalk diffs. It is never safe, but it's never so dangerous as today, race day.