in the picture we are thirteen and barefoot, standing on the black stones that swell out of the beach near treyarnon bay in cornwall. you’re looking directly at the camera almost smirking with your doc martens in one hand and i’ll bet you’re imagining a cigarette a pint and maybe a handsome bloke in the other. i’m looking away into the salt wind and perhaps even farther, missing my home across the sea that i lost only a few months before, two cats and a dog dispersed between neighbors and my sister in new york city.