I’m always longing for the ocean. It’s been that way for as far as I can remember, as though I spent lifetimes before this one asleep on empty shores — listening to some lonely siren’s song.
Beaches here are small rocky enclaves nestled against the busy road. We keep expecting space where there is none, silly north americans that we are. La Ciotat is a city of closed shipyards. It’s the birthplace of cinema.
And I see frames at every turn.