Boy on the beach. He’s travelled here with his parents in their spacious saloon (then a novelty train) from his high-spec home in his safe little town a few miles north. He frolics in the waves, edging deeper and deeper, he shudders, feels the chill as the breakers lap gooseflesh thighs. He rises and dips with the swell, arms swishing. He takes the plunge: the boy dives in. |
Boy on the beach. He’s travelled here without his parents in an oven-like truck (then a heaving dinghy) from his bombed-out home in his war-torn town four thousand miles south. He floats face down, drifting closer and closer, observers shudder, chilled as the breakers turn him, showing his eyes. He rises and dips, belly swollen, arms sagging. No one takes the plunge: the body glides in. |