We didn’t sleep at all that night, dancing until the sun came up and then smoking cigarettes on the pier. One after another the strung up lights became harder to see and then turned off completely, sensitive to the sunlight which was already warming the exposed skin on our arms and the toes of our bare feet, naked on the warped boards in front of us. I looked at you, raising my arms against the light filtering through your hair and smiled as you lit another cigarette. I could taste salt in the air, and I breathed in deep so that the smoke mixed in and sharpened against my tongue. Seagulls drifted on invisible strings, cut away as they dived in to the water lapping against the metal supports of the boardwalk, sea as blue as the sky on the horizon. I could see us reflected in the glass of the café opposite, pale and trashed, broken and beautiful. Sometimes I wished that it could always be like this, so that every day I would find myself somewhere else with you, breathing in that tainted air and wishing the world away.