(no subject)
We used to vacation to the beaches of Normandy, France and we used to play in the leftover forts that dotted the coastline. There were pathways and twisted underground mazes between each one and we would follow them from one hideout to another, carrying my prized red cassette player that only spews The Byrds. There used to be guns there, Lex says, because there are rusted-over stands and puncture wounds in the walls. I just play house and pretend and hope that someday I will have a little home like this near the sea. Sometimes we would see the ragged, rusted top of a chain-link fence surface from beneath the sand during low tide and Mum says we shouldn't play on that beach but we do anyway.