Her name is Mary. It is French and lives in Paris.
She is 70 years old and she is retired. She wakes up everyday at 5am.
She gets up in the shadows, as the room is dark. This morning.
She walks carefully, opened the windows and let in fresh air. She
shower, dressed and made his little breakfast basis.
In the building there is early
She puts her coat she released
Pluis
And it's still dark
It
down the boulevard She goes
The coach driver
Turns His old friend for her his headlights
and smiled when she got into the car and sits on the same bench every day.
She smiled too, but look off to the outside. The campaign is running.
She moves away from the city.
It is part but without definite direction.
She rolls to nowhere
It has more memory. She is lost in a dream A big empty
gnaws
It goes
When the bus arrives at the beach is already light.
under a shower of orange
On stopping the beach, she descends
She removes the shoes and puts them in the bag
Barefoot in the sand
strolls on the beach, no matter rain
She lets her hair White Wind.
With his wet feet for the sea and wet body for rain
She looks at him the wave oceain
For a brief moment
She thinks her children
She remembers playing with children at the seaside, sand castles, the sun warms the skin.
Images him back as a film former. Then nothing
Suddenly, the voices of children at a distance to bring the reality.
She looks to her, recognizes her grandchildren who are working toward it and felt his heart full of joy.
This year they will spend the summer with her at his beach house
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