I wake up to the shy sound of a detuned French radio. And leave a half-drank latte – stay put – on the kitchen table. Off on my favourite hollandais bike.
It rattles, unexpectedly. And the brake feels ever too fierce.
But it takes me to the market. And the little fort by the beach; the one at the end of the stony trail.
I could spend hours there. Especially when the sun turns the sky into a rainbow.
Perhaps more than ever.