Semi-conscious thoughts fly through my head, a door, a house, an alleyway, the gulls are crying, echoing through the narrow pathways. Retracing… the door-handle is cold, the door white, plants in their pots stand to attention as I pass, and I do pass, Peacock Row, Jim Bell Style, Sunny Place, The Dock, boats, crab pots, ropes … the sea… the waves lapping on the shore… flotsam and jetsam litter the sands, imagined jewels, out of place… catch my eye, there briefly, then gone…… my footprints……… left behind……… until the next tide…… until the next time………