Four years go by and one day, during an innings of sand clump throwing, one of them looks at the clump in his hand and asks,
What is this actually called?
What I remember is that, shortly after we started seeing each other, (iii) Six took me camping for a weekend at Stumpys Bay. And while sitting together on the beach, doing our best to ignore the bracing wind, he picked up a small clump of sand and asked,
Did you know that there's a name for these?
One name is george; a perfectly quirky fit for the fragile, oddly shaped everyday phenomenon of a dry clump of sand.
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