The island speaks of forever.
Rock the colour of a whale’s back. A fathomless sea that leaps into the sky, swallowing the horizon .
Everything is as it has always has been and I want to be part of it, lie in the waves, let the barnacles clump my skin, the worms burrow into the warren of my bones.
A dash of red draws my eye, the colour so bright it hurts. The colour of pillar boxes, of telephone kiosks and buses, of change.
I want to be alone with the sea, but the colour grows, becomes a girl in a red dress. She battles her hair, the skirt that tangles round her calves. She bends, plucks shells from the whale’s back, tucks the stolen treasures in her pocket.
She smiles as she passes, the shells jingling, that smile pulling me back to life, the possibility of change.