Lying on the sun-buttered, wind-seared beach, drinking Absinthe and ice water, he picks at his burning wounds. This is between him and his conscience...
Pantomime Act I the solo artist lights a last cigarette studies the bottle forty percent proof read the label contemplates dipping in a final search...
Later, some will say she walked the beach mile from town, brought herself to rest against the low dune and knowing her time was done waited, watching...