A giant etch-a-sketch, the beach is a perfect place for play. Everything will wash away and leave a new surface.
I wrote “The tide will take me” in wet sand with a piece of dried cuttlefish and it began to sink into the ground as I was writing. The sea was rising up from below as well as washing in from the incoming tide.
After months of visiting, collecting water and taking photographs, I finally made it to the beach with the intention of playing. A new beginning and chance to experiment.
Wading through shallow pools left by indents in the beach, the seaweed washes up to me. I want to replant it, the stem of one type clearly uprooted but intact. While it is wet it is also soft and pliable, smoother than my skin. I wind it round my leg.
Standing in the water as the tide comes in sucks the sand from under my feet. It begins to plant me in the beach too.
How long before I begin to grow barnacles I wonder. How long do I have to spend in the water before the sea claims me for itself?
