SUNDAY / 49

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One of our last days at the beach and a grey morning to start. We took the girls for a walk along Willyama Beach, buckets in hand to collect shells and cuttlefish (or 'cuddle-fish' as Coco says, arms outstretched for a hug). We found all kinds, seaweed, dead fish, driftwood. 

I like finding a stone, just one that is round and smooth and softened by the sand and waves to take home. It reminds me of my friend Jules who we lost last year - Stephen said she always picked stones from the seashore when she came to visit. He gave me one, a white-washed heavy Eastbourne stone when I was there in May. I like holding it and feeling the weight of it, the weight of this old world from tide to tide.  

YEAR TWO.

YEAR ONE.