Observing the bay from the East Beach shoreline — the rocks covered with the sticky black oil, the tidal pools barricaded with floating fences — it is hard to keep faith. Our most favorite playground is contaminated, for birds, fishermen and anyone else. One feels much like a visitor to a carnival on an early morning when the sparkly lights are off and sun exposes the rust on machinery and the shabbiness of it all.
The smell of tar is strong. But the boil lapping at the shore like a disease is, in a way, a secondary infection. It's not just the oysters and the sand that are covered with it, but also the litter that was there before, the sight of which we've become accustomed.