Curlews are calling from the sand.
Yellowhammers are calling from the gorse.
Passing terns creak their way over the still waters of Budle Bay.
No one else here, not even a footprint disturbs the peaceful solitude.
18th July 2019, Budle Bay, 5pm
Down on the beach this afternoon.
The black beach is from chipped whinstone left from industrial processing. It’s odd to think this was once a smoky, noisy place.
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