byron

the shop on the corner has jewels and silver clinking in the wind until you run your hands through them and the shopkeeper with her one purple dreadlock smiles at you. there is soy and you can make yourself a cup of tea and take off your shoes and watch the seagulls slip over the ridges in the sand; until the sun goes down, and then the tie dye looks as though it's glowing in the twilight, and you can walk home barefoot if you don't mind the rub of sand between your toes.