““I remember the morning you walked back from the sea, dirty trousers rolled, your feet pale as prisoners, poems and broken shells falling through a hole in your pocket. You stood for a moment and smiled at the gulls and it was as though the sun, the water, the day had conspired to put you back together again. I hope you walked into death as you did into that morning chasing a poem your step a little jaunty and your eyes full of the sea.””
