Frames

Yesterday we went to Grange and walked north towards the jetty. When we reached the jetty we walked under the jetty without stopping. The sand was cold under the jetty. Without breaking my stride I looked right and saw a family tableau; looked left and saw the slurping sea framed by the jetty pylons. It seemed like the right thing to do.

We kept walking north towards the next jetty. The next jetty isn't visible, but there must be one. What we could see was a giant tanker on the horizon setting out from somewhere. It looked like a grey castle on a grey cliff. That was because it was a tanker. But it reminded me of a castle on a cliff because I often see photographs of one.

The sand formed rippling patterns north of the jetty. I like to look at patterns and think about their meaning. They have to have a meaning or they wouldn't be a pattern. I realised yesterday that might be tautologous, and if it was, the pattern was irrelevant. I was glad to think so, because it was hurting my ankle to walk on the pattern.

We left the beach. On the esplanade near the toilets we passed three wooden masts, A sculpture of a bird sits on top of the middle one. It looks just like a real bird. I don't think it's a pelican. I was looking back at the sea between two of the masts to where a purple sail filled with wind.

Today, when I first remembered the sail, the wooden masts framed the memory, for several seconds before I remembered what they were.