of just renting a camper van and driving from one end of Britain’s coastline to the other. Exploring old English villages. Having fish and chips on the pier. Making copious amounts of tea. Making outlines of the waves. Making outlines of each other. You there with me.
These days I’ll just settle for a drive to the coast. And a stroll amongst lavender fields and craggy beaches. Sandwich picnics in tucked away places. Parasols in sight. Miss that salty air and seagull calling. But not as much as I miss you. The waves call to the sea. The sea call to the moon. But you call to me.