27 August 2004


I always used to be afraid of being touched or shat on by the gulls, but fascinated with them. The way they'd swarm down on things they found washed up. I wonder where they go at night. The current's too strong, the water's too cold, it's too far away. I can just about hear the lulling sound of a boat, a long way off. I'm swimming for land against a billion blurry dots of light. Behind the beach, the town is blazing, melting into the night. I take a deep breath, fill up my lungs. And the lights go out.