down the steps from dockside.
A staff man hurried and apologized to her.
Another man looked as if he'd like to apologize too.
Chestnut hair. Her
toddler's poll, fluffier.
He picked up his son and swung his son's shod feet out of the way. The child relaxedly gazing, familiar hoist, absorbed in his thumb. Oil on the tarmac.
The clouds pulling over, and the sea pulling away. Sump.
Mystery of the open shop. The green flyers, terracotta bring and buy, and the sky-blue magnetic healing.
The dog puts its nose in the base of the harbour wall. She pulled on the lead; the dog trotted along.
Girls and boys by the toilets, girl laughing loud, and the boys swearing like they owned the gangway.
A boy spilled a can. It rolled about, pulsing 7-up on the district centre.
Wet wind, with rain in it, how wet depends which way you face, made the puddles jump.
A lack of worry in his enfeebled time.