london

You let the water find your feet first, then walk in slowly until you are floating, fifty meters out with La Croisette spread before you — the hotels, the promenade, all those people and the easy hum of the day. Turning back, you find her lying on the beach, her hair, her shoulders, that calm face, and you settle beside her to talk of family, closeness, the quiet reassurance of being known. It lives now as blood orange, cedarwood and vanilla.