Rocks of all shapes and sizes, pressed against each other, lead to a blue expanse that reaches into the the fog covering the horizon, a direct contrast to nearby rattling and shrill demands.
Sitting on a picnic table on St Leondards-on-Sea's boardwalk, facing the English Channel, families to my side eating fish and chips, ice-cream.
The waves are gills.
YOU ARE READING
At the Gym with Allen GinsbergRandom
"I really would like to stop working forever-never work again, never do anything like the kind of work I'm doing now-and do nothing but write poetry and have leisure to spend the day outdoors and go to museums and see friends. And I'd like to keep l...