I went down to the coast to visit my Sara. Everyone who loves her calls ‘my Sara’. Her new house is scattered with my old things. Jars painted with hearts, Ganesha gathering cobwebs in the window, my faded duvet.
It was raining when I woke up, I scraped myself out of bed, onto my bike, and scooted down to the beach, leaving my flip flops on the bike. It was dark and wet, no surfers. Just the way I like it. Moody. Private. No flashy colors – just sky, clouds, light and ocean. The dark line of water on the black sand. My (other) kind of sunrise. Happy. Home.