Back on the Algerian shore.

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That soft place where the sea and the land have been kissing each other for ever, that’s where I like to be, to plunge into the whispering water, gasp, breathe and give my body over to the pleasure of liquid caresses as I propel myself forward, further from the shore then back again, only realising how weightless I’ve become when I drag my sated body from the water and throw myself on the sand, breathless, and watch as the water runs off me, evaporating in the sunshine, leaving me bronzed, blond and beautiful, but that was a long time ago when I thought I’d be twenty years old forever. Reality sucks. So does gravity. And old age.