When the sun begins to set lower in the sky and the wind courses through the dunes; when the van selling mussels has pulled up its shutters, and the ferris wheel spins no more, the coastal towns of these Isles slow but do not cease.
Kagoule’d couples cuddle, albeit for warmth, and their dogs, unleashed, run free. The 8-ers we skim could reach France, with practice, and the fairy-lit pier in the blue-hour’d twilight warms the shivering hearts in the depths of our fleeces.
Staring into the abyss, in a rare moment of meditation, the waves crashing around me, I’m reminded of nature’s sheer potential, and how, like the specks of sand at my feet, we are just bundles of atoms in an impossibly large universe.
