Rest. Sleep. Recover.

Rest.   Sleep.   Recover.
Rest.   Tea.   Sleep.   Recover.
Rest.   Tea.   Sleep.   Coffee.   Recover.
Rest.   Tea.   Cake.   Sleep.   Coffee.   Cake.   Recover.
Rest.   Sleep.   Recover.

And I will be there to hold you.

Changing the guard at the sea

At the Marina bar an hour after sunrise, early sunseekers with their cappuccini and cornetti swirl and eddy around the nightclub exiters, cold water, give me cold water. The two tribes mix like suntan cream and seawater.

An hour later the tattooed late-night swimmers trail up from the rocks, eyes red with salt and sleeplessness, beer bottles half full of cigarette butts and ash. The greatgrandparents distract the children with promises of coloured fish.

Neon sizzle

The neon sizzle from the bar last night is still behind D’s eyes. She has not slept enough; she smiles as she remembers why. The bells through the open window tell her it is Sunday, ten o’clock. She turns over and there is T again. His mouth tastes of coffee.