Cringey writing
Beach I remember when we went to the beach that day. It was winter and instead of a mad dash to the water, screaming as as we kicked up burning sand, we turned and walked parallel to the waves. The beach is different in winter. Instead of hot blue and warm yellow there is instead a pastel stretch of pale sand leading to a distant vision of headlands seen through salty mists that fill your nose with the promise of oysters. Water Oh we missed the water, missed the way it would hammer on the roof in a metallic greeting. Missed the little rivers running in the corrugations and flying off the edge in triumph. When you opened your mouth to it, it tasted like rust and earth. It was good. There were days once when you could dive into a pool of water, feel its cool kiss wrap around your body like a deep green come to life. In the water you could keep a secret, or hide one if you wished. But what we have now is the absence of water, of cracks opening across the earth, across our fac