UNDER EXMOUTH SKIES (Part 12)
There is something perfectly relaxing about sitting and watching the boats roll back up the Exe at the end of a day, homeward bound to the quay. As the sun begins to set and the colours in the sky start to flare and dissolve, a languid weariness descends from above like a beautifully soft eiderdown being thrown over the world as slowly but surely everything feels right.
The sea heaves and shifts its mighty weight and the beach is deserted to fall prey to the gulls and the crows seeking scraps and detritus left behind by the tourists.
The boats sound their horns. The sound of children's laughter fades. The waves lap upon the shore.
And life becomes dream....