I woke from a dream of an old life where I slept in the attic room of a tall, dishevelled town house by the sea. The tired timber frame would lull and groan in the night, as if it were the waves themselves, and in my half-waking thoughts I would imagine it toppling right over. I would wake with a view of the water winking at me from the horizon.
That's the thing about the sea: it's as powerful as it is beautiful and, quite often, it likes to remind you so in its clever and terrible ways.
I have a terrible habit of never finishing what I set out to write and you know what? That’s fine. For me, writing is a progressive, evolutionary act and so I try to publish in short, first drafts to give myself less of a hard time and the freedom to capture whatever I feel at a given time.
You can follow along on Instagram with the hashtag. I’d love it if you added your own, too.