Walking the Foreshore
I. Foam scours the sand. The pulsing lighthouse peers through clouds like lumpy breasts hugging the hills. My sister’s dead of cancer at 52 and I trod the beach [...]
I. Foam scours the sand. The pulsing lighthouse peers through clouds like lumpy breasts hugging the hills. My sister’s dead of cancer at 52 and I trod the beach [...]
When you have travelled through jungles of imagination, trod upon hot pavement in arid cities of desire, when all you’ve sought refuses to be found, stand still and let [...]