A prompting tower in the distance, remembers the sea. The sea itself, itself. Braveheart, in the classic visible zone, savours the moment, applied to swaying. Pilgrim Monument, swaying moment. The wind above the sand of Cape Cod invents a town called Provincetown. Angry Scots sever English heads free. Pilgrims stop a moment, deciding to begin. Pilgrims require artifice, obviously. Sentences require verb. Verbs without nouns stop short of a picture. Remember that the tower in Provincetown stands as high as you thought. It stands on a hill, add that figure. It requires memory to see the tower; monuments live outside. Time is a function demonstrating the passage of time. We never stop, even when Braveheart cries freedom, or dead Englishman. Ben Franklin killed George III, it was not pretty. He cried freedom, pretty, but avail. Time has frozen in the time taken to say FREEDOM. People await. A sentence begins with a capital letter. The world begins anew. Provincetown begins with Braveheart slaying tyranny. You remember the rhythm of saying so. You occupied your mind, again.