The Lancashire cat grins. Just a grin against an orange stucco wall. Is that how you remember me?
There's hot Sister Moon and the smell of vampires' breath. Trees black, grass blue in the silver.
A day's journey of baguettes, wine, sun burn, brioche. Sand and tantrums, Nivea and brie.
Cuckoos counting the clockless uncoiling of the afternoon's boiling to 11 o'clock dusk.
The sun shouts in your eyes.