Bronzed rays toasted the fine down on my arms as i gazed out the panes of glass and surveyed the view from my tower. A coast, beach yellow - some red licks of earth intermingled with scalding sand, water blue -some green and a underlying darkness, no doubt a contribution to the beauty from the fleets of titchy fishing boats (sail powered and innocent) and the interloping posturing yachts (oil, more petrol than a family saloon for a week, and where does it go? That darkness?) from other cities, here for the quaint old town and overprices prawns.
A languid air whispered through the palm tree fronds, twirling coquettish fingertips as the salted air from the salted sea picked up. Another storm brewing out in the great fearless depths of that mildly mannered puddle.
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