I drove along the coast on Sunday. It was raining. Of the fast windscreen wipers kind. And the wind would push waves on the road.
I stopped. And my cheeks turned pink.
This is what happens when it’s summer. Or at least when it feels like it.
We swim in the sea, or more accurately, we’re forced by that wave which chose the exact moment we stepped into the water to break into – what feels like – a herd of horses.
I had forgotten how purposeless words can hold a special meaning. Just like driving endlessly on the smallest roads, with no possibility whatsoever to get lost since we have no destination.
And it feels like a moment outside of time.
More than ever, this year, june feels like a new start. A kiss goodbye under the rain. Metaphorically and literally.
Also the first time I won’t be able to wish my grand-father his birthday.
It seems I’ve been kept busy by the sound of pebbles rolling under the waves. In my records, it’s an all-good kind of thing.
I don’t really know where to start about my – our – recent getaway to Cornwall. I have seen landscapes so beautiful my eyes hurt. I have eaten food so delicious my taste-buds remember.