The first wisps of a winter haar crawl in from the North Sea. Long grey fingers skimming the water, reaching over sand dunes and rocky shores, before its ascent towards the village; dry cold seeps into cracks in doorways and windows, creeps through streets and wynds, nooks and crannies, filling up every empty space and trailing behind it a colossal, weightless body. 🌊
(Creative Writing | The Mermaid Station )
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