Today seems breathless. No stirring of the dried reeds, or whisper of breeze through my hair. The harbour is empty, boats lying desolate, waiting for water. Air lies heavily on the beach, pinned down by the thick layer of cloud. The seaweed lingers after the tide. Safely tucked away between dry Irish moss and empty mermaids purse lurks a periwinkle, seeking refreshment. I find myself hoping for the rain, full of expectation.