here is a yellow beach in my mind. I know the damp tang of casuarina that hangs in the air there after rain; I have seen the water when it storms and the dunes are swallowed into the bruised belly of a winter sky. I collect shells along the water’s edge — cowries and scallops, baby-pink in their folds — and wish that I could place them into the
Going home
Jul 21, 2021
2 minutes
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