Two students were sitting in the middle of the Promenade pavement, just beneath the War Memorial as I walked this morning. They were in deep conversation. He sat cross-legged and she kneeled, facing him. I think he might have been crying.
The echo of an oystercatcher’s pip pipping was carried across the sea, while gulls ripped open bin bags on Chalybeate Street a day early.
My body aches and I fantasise about a massage. She writes of her pain and I think of another in hospital and another newly placed in a nursing home.
