Oily membranous magnitude of bilge, speckled with gull-moult, drowned cigarette ends and lumps of battered shark, slopped periwinkles. Sun struck bellies bared skywards, basted to blister. On a path fringed with sea-sand and green glass, at midnight broken, I found a tiny rectangle of wax-coated paper, printed:



Trust you to take it to heart.
Later I slipped on smooth rock, just past where brackish water seeps from the headland, and grazed knee, heel and ankle. My fall dislodged gritty particles which clung and clumped. I did not spit, but kept the flecks embedded in my flesh. (How many beings had the stone tasted?)