The beach

I put my book on the sand, lay back, and looked up at the clouds sliding across the sky. At the edges, they swirled like ink in water. After a while, these movements began to have an unsettling effect on me. I felt as if gravity might suddenly fail; that the earth would lose its grip on my body, and I would fall into the depths of the sky, first through the bright and friendly blue, and then on into the gaping endlessness of space. Continue reading The beach


‘What if someone sees?’ I said. He told me not to worry. ‘No one here cares,’ he said. I wasn’t convinced. A man with a dog was walking at the water’s edge, headed in our direction. I sat up. ‘Can we wait?’ I said. ‘Just till he’s passed?’ ‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘I recognise him. He’s always here. He’s a player. He won’t bother us. Don’t worry, just relax.’ I put my head back onto my left forearm so I could still see the shoreline, and I let him ease my bathers down. ‘It’s not a nudist beach, is it?’ … Continue reading Players

It Used To Be Our Game

I try to change the subject. I talk to her about the beach – a place she likes to be. She once told me she’d like to die on the beach, in the sun, as people walk by. No one would really be sure if she were dead, or just sunbaking, she said. I told her then to be less morbid. She said she wasn’t being morbid, just conscious of the need for a happy death. I tell her that today’s going to be a hot day, and that the night will be hot too, and that we can go … Continue reading It Used To Be Our Game