“Reach for the sky, pilgrim.” In the words of John Wayne.
Brightly painted vans line the brow of the beach. Their owners blissfully ‘blasting,’ whilst an opportunity presents.
Scything across wind shattered seas, trailing white rooster tails of salt spray.
Few are the takers, for a tour by open topped bus. Its driver taps an impatient foot.
His gaze fixed upon the pier, lit stark white and gold beneath a crystal clear sky. A mighty crescendo filling his ears. As wind and wave unite in chorus.
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