The seawall stands like a wave stuck in time, as if she yearns to join her watery brethren. She is the patient witness, a stillness next to the ever-moving wind, sea and clouds. She is a quietness beneath the cries of the birds, a sense of permanence in a place that changes by the moment. In the bright light of autumn, the low sun nurtures her colours, bringing them out like the hues of wave-kissed shell. She directs the eyes from the ocean to herself, to the clouds above and back down to the watery blue.
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