The sun sets solemnly against the water, a black line standing out against the sun stained orange color of the ocean. The wind runs madly through the grass that sits atop the dunes of the muck covered beach. The sticks left to mark the sea turtle eggs are covered in black oil that has crawled over the ocean’s surface and destroyed the coast. Workers are scattered across the beach collecting the life depriving oil that has engulfed it and killed its animals. I turn my small brother away as he sees a bird beset in the oil and dead. We turn to the rocks of the jetties, as we hop across them the black water seems angry as it thrashes against the boulders. Half of the boulders are slick and covered in the oil that has drained into the ocean from the United Kingdom’s well, the other half of the rocks are dry and sparkling against the harsh noon sun.
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