Same walk, same long meditation past sparkly blue ocean and the same absent breeze. The sameness of the warmth and light and muted sounds remind me of a school day, skived off sick.
The same troupe of new mums power-push their strollers and gossip to whittle baby weight. These same mums, later, must be back at work cos then it’s grandma’s turn to take the kids in her crinkly hands and go down to the beach. There’s nobody school-age or work-age but me.
A skydiver wheels down to land, incredibly, on the same thin lick of sand. Nobody has looked up though. It happens every other day.