She walks along the Beach and collects water for herself. And Seashells for someone little that she loves very much. She talks endlessly in her head as there is no one else to talk to. Nor things that she could share. She listens to the waves and the painful clarity. Thoughts revealing internal realisations of cruel realities. She was very naive to imagine they could never be possible. Some thoughts she wishes the waves could wash away. On earth -but she knows this not to be true.

It was a few years before She died. I was visiting overseas and stayed at her place. She gave me her bedroom and her bed for my privacy and comfort. She slept in the loungeroom settee throughout my stay. The Sun was just rising with a piercing brilliance in the horizon. The light, braking through the semi sheer curtain waving silently. In the gentle morning breeze, woke me up.