I stand between storm and side

Darkness deep blue
Light grey white paint brush strokes 
the waves.
The light, pours
For it is not sun, it is from the echoes of reflection
Place a seagull in the spotlight. Edith Piaf smiles from above. Little birds recognize each other and then

It is a memory.

Jane Birkin dances through the air. Once there was a mini dress. Now there are women in thongs braving the salt and sand. How old must you be to accept your body with all its flaws. 
Jane and Edith and the birds laugh. The rain falls in lines, more silver than argent, sand and 
water make money meaningless.

You only know how free you were, for one moment, when you return to the car park.
The seagulls, who had been in council, have gone. There are no feather reminders. God don’t look at texts or emails or last minute sales. 
All ruined. One deep breath is like drawing a sword, and it slices away that futur penible
Pour
A little while longer.

It’s your own faults, the photographer said.
They sit above the clouds and laugh and laugh.
How stupid we are.
Thank Panhard et Levassor for first gear
Shift some consciousness to hope
action will become a friend.