Recently, my Beloved and I were given twenty-four precious hours to recharge, child-free, and we fled to the sea.
We have missed it so much.
The sound of the surf and the scent of the brine, after so many long months in exile, was indescribable.
At dusk we made our way to the shore, and sat at the high tide and listened, and smelt and felt.
There was a random rootlet or twiglit, by my feet and I picked it up and began taking photos of it in the fading light. The camera found it hard to focus, as it was too close, the light fleeing, but I enjoyed the different way different parts were sharpened and softened. I loved it's lack of straight lines or symmetries.
The way it looked to be in motion, when not. The way it almost looked like something other - a sea dragon, the prow of a viking ship, but didn't.