Coast

Piles of seaweed, rotting. Flies.

I that flostam? Is that what flotsam looks like? How do you tell it apart from jetsam?


The tide’s out. Life’s out. And we’re just stranded. Nothing has any meaning – any context. Nothing’s borne by anything. It’s just deposited. Just left here. 


Everyone’s gone mad from low tide. From this extra low tide. Will there be an extra high tide now? Will Cullercoats essentially flood?


Those guys with metal detectors. What are they looking for? What are they hoping to find?


There comes a dog. Hello, dog. What do you want, dog? Where do you stand on animals, philosopher? You’re down on nature in general, I know that.