turn

I went for a walk last night. Afternoon, actually. But late afternoon.

When the sea has turned grey and most sunday.afternoon.ers have returned home to wash sandy hair and put picnic rugs away and pack.bags.and.make.lunch.for.tomorrow and have sunday.night.eggs with their most favourite people.

So, as I was saying. The sea had turned grey and the sky too. Except for far, far over. Where screaming pink clouds were firing, dancing: life in action!

And then. On a bench. Facing the cold, grey water. Young and broken. Head in hands.

Turn around! [I wanted to say] Those clouds are for you! Calling your name. Life is good. Turn around!

But she didn’t. And I kept walking.