I stand between storm and side Darkness deep blue Light grey white paint brush strokes the waves. The light, pours For it is not sun, it is from the echoes of reflection Place a seagull in the spotlight. Edith Piaf smiles from above. Little birds recognize each other and then It is a memory. Jane Birkin dances through the air. Once there was a mini dress. Now there are women in thongs braving the salt and sand. How old must you be to accept your body with all its flaws. Jane and Edith and the birds laugh. The rain falls in lines, more silver than argent, sand and water make money meaningless. You only know how free you were, for one moment, when you return to the car park. The seagulls, who had been in council, have gone. There are no feather reminders. God don’t look at texts or emails or last minute sales. All ruined. One deep breath is like drawing a sword, and it slices away that futur penible Pour A little while longer. It’s your own faults, the photographer said. They sit above the clouds and laugh and laugh. How stupid we are. Thank Panhard et Levassor for first gear Shift some consciousness to hope action will become a friend.