 |
 |
A cat on a bench; it’s gathered within its fur, from wind; but chattering at small birds pecking scraps. two seagulls wait, ignoring each other. The tide slaps concrete. Visible coast, from Pedn Olva south and east, until the pier and a horrid planter get in the way. Rocks; and slopes too steep for quick-build architects. Structures high up, mostly outsize. Thin or small-scale woods -- one of the gulls hops on to a capstan, to drink rain collected there. Two more gulls, both ragged, come to the edge of the roof of a locked wooden shelter, as if waiting for a performance. Ahead, across water, are the sands of Carbis Bay. Empty just now. The near sea is ant-busy with people; but uniform in colour. A dog goes into the waves from before The Sloop. Its head is under, only the tail visible; and still it moves out. Then a snout rises, and it floats and swims around, back to the beach. It bounds a little way and turns, its arse towards the land again, barking once to its human, making herself comfortable on steps. It digs a rapid trench in the sand and gallops into the sea. And on and on; and round and round; repeating. A man on the slip, who’s loading a digger on to a trailer, falls over into a puddle. His mate laughs. He laughs. The gull not on the capstan shits. Its shit is yellow. A motor-boat swings on the tide.