(Credit: janewheeler.co.uk)

(Credit: janewheeler.co.uk)

Swaying to the flute and the breaking waves and the voices of the invisible singers in the branches.

I am not sure what made me begin, but it feels right to sway, like a reed nudged by a gentle breeze.

And the slate coloured sand wash away into the grey water which mingles with the iron sky and I think that I too could be part of it all, of something greater, if I just let myself. As the cold water seeps into my shoes I shiver, but it is not long before the numbness comes and some large hand is already smudging all the remaining contrasts into uniformity.

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  1. I don’t think it’s possible to not sway to the movement of the ocean.


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