Monday, 14 September 2009

Stolen waters are sweet

From the coast in Normandy we could see the English Channel Islands and listen to BBC radio, which gave me a strange sense of hovering between the two countries. We swam in the September sea, shivered on the rocky beaches, taunted Arturo's grandma's sausage dog, watched dubbed films, and on the last day I fell off my bicycle and cut my knees in the gravel.