We gather around the start of a causeway down to the Thames. It's a pretty cold night and there's a breeze coming off the river.
Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.
"Put a blanket."
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Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50
Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.
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hello reader,
and the fake qualifier