Lights lie scattered around and far away, like burning coal across blackstone. She grabs my hand and turn my head towards a sky rinsed in morning colours, orange pink within a lonely blue. Your eyes are wet stones that I stole from a naked beach somewhere among cliffs and shrieks and where seaweed marked my hands with strong thumbs. Dreams or daydreams and heavy drums and seaside rumours, starlights above and beneath. Our tangled hair flows across the seat in shimmering strings of gold and white.