"Australia tomorrow."

Along the balcony walkway; looking down at the pebbles and vast grey expanse beyond. Beaches should be fun and beautiful, even awe-inspiring, right? White sand and aquamarine waters, surfers and snorkelers having the time of their lives doing what they love, kite surfers flying high while trying not to get swept away, holiday-makers laying down towels, little kids going nuts with their buckets and spades. No, not here. This is one of those basic barren British beaches, totally dead and disused this time of year, when summer is so achingly close but not yet waking us from our three-season sleep. All we get is grainy brown sand smothered and barely seen under the pebbles, damp air with a biting breeze running through it; the ruins of the once-wondrous pier serve as a constant reminder that we destroy all that we are in the end.


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