The walk to the sea smelt of honey suckle and salt.

The air is unusually crisp for the month of May.

I settle down on one of my aunts afghans with a little kettle of

coffee, a pear which I don’t eat and my new book “on the road” which I don’t read.

I spend the majority of the time photographing the atmosphere,

musing about the roaring twenties, Paris and how every generation wishes their moments

away by wanting to be alive in another era.

I have felt my soul grow living by the sea.