A thousand naked, oiled bodies lie sunning themselves across the curve of the beach. Pressed wavelets of gold sand connect the colourful towels, each supporting its own bather. Some read. Some drink. A few, scattered souls bob about in the slow tide.
A painter sits on a dune, long grasses sticking up through the sand, their soft blades drooping in the heat, carefully dabbing away at an almost-finished canvas. She reclines for a moment, the wide brim of her straw hat shading the glass of iced-tea she picks up from the table beside her.
There’s an itch to go swim. But there’s this to finish yet. So she sets down her glass and picks up her brushes.
Paddy Dobson
24th December 2020