Friday, 8 June 2012

Diary Picture - 12 April 2008

Walking down the seafront in Clacton I noticed the bright blue sparkle of a child's windmill sitting perilously close to the edge of the promenade. 

Twenty minutes later, on my way back, I saw the same twinkle of sapphire, blown onto a different spot on the pavement. Still incongruously blue in a sea of grey and beige. Still vaguely uplifting and tragic at the same time. And still oddly demanding my attention.

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