Every summer at the beach, Dad and I would assemble a box kite, and fly it over the dunes.
Just as his dad did with him.
And I do with my kids.
And my kids will do with theirs.
When the kite is too worn or damaged to fly, a new one is assembled.
When the father is too worn or damaged, the staff try to repair him, blowing sand from his gears.
And if they can’t, a new one is assembled.
Same with the kids.
The tourists take photos with their smartphones.
And buy box kites, and fly them.