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"I look at his tattoo on the beach in Santa Barbara" is the title of this watercolor painted in 1980 when I went through my American youth. Moore Mesa Beach is a mile long nude beach where I went with friends whenever the weather was good, summer or winter. The mesa was untouched and at the edge of the cliff a row of trees were growing with the sea shimmering behind. It was a corner of paradise.
There was a path with steps build and kept by devotees of the beach. At the western end of the beach the cliffs jutted out, but were easy to scale to reach one of the several caves like cavities in an old tooth.
The picture shows the other extremity of the beach from where it was possible to pass for miles at low tide.
Shortly after I left they started building on the part of the mesa closest to the road and I wonder how much of it is still there? I don't want to know. I have seen too many places being violated; it's better to keep the dreamy memory real ;-)