feel the bite of sea air on my face

everytime different everytime familiar

Holding hands but walking in opposite directions.
Locals stare as we defiantly eat our icecreams. Numb hands and cold noses.

Fences around the beach. A yellow digger on a platform uselessly slops huge scoops of sand and sea water. Below the surface a diver guides the new wooden groins into place.
Further down the beach we strip to our bathing suits.The water is too sharp-intake-of-breathy cold for swimming today. I read while Matt and Esme sleep.
We don’t stop to watch the disfunctional marriage acted out in the stripey booth.
In the bath tonight I’ll still notice the tan lines from this day.

Milford On Sea with friends December 31st 2005.