The last seaside trip always begins happy.
and ends melancholic.
until the next summer.
but alas!the kettle is whistlin’ and in a minute tea leaves will start their dance in a transcluent, steaming glass.
This is also hapiness,but of another kind.
driving home(hate Irish bars – Love Kilkeny – we all have a cross to bear) I’ve ran through the first light shower of the season.I didnt turn the wipers for as long as I could to savor the moment.
Bat Yam beach,a month and a half ago.
The harsh flash is on purpose
My affections lie 3500Km away and I wait for a plane from Moscow to bring me relief.