As the light faded tonight, the only hint of the sea was the jagged sound of it's irregular breath. And as the tide fell relieved onto the smaller shingle and sand, the sound too faded. If you glanced at the right moment, you would sea a lip of white edged wave, just a glimpse before the darkness swallowed the seams and all was dark again. I liked the silent spaces in between the waves best. Gazing out at a shrinking panorama, it reminded me of a flicker book, or a spluttering early movies, when people always seemed to walk too fast and in sandstorms.
No sandstorms tonight, only the threat of downpour. The sky loomed close. The clouds seemed to weigh heavy and tense, flattening down on the sunset sky, but no rain fell as the world turned black and white.