Trodding along the seaside


“But how do we dance?”, they ask. “We are but mannequins on display, elaborating or possibly just hinting times told, perhaps of rot and decay”.

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The view was vivid, the coffee strong. And with a song we hummed along the way down to the shore. The waters behaved.



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And the breeze told a story of past times (perhaps it was assumed by the song we sung).


Entangled glamorous contraptions; perhaps not so.

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But directed in segments,

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onto strange paths.


Then, finally, to rest.



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