Description of Bientôt l’été, attempt #5

There’s a man on T. Beach. Or a woman. I don’t know. I’ll decide later. The man is alone.

There is wind. Wind and waves and sky. And the man. Or the woman.

He closes his eyes: the glowing energy of machines.

— What? This is not real!

He opens his eyes. Looks around. And around again.

Then he walks. Or she. And the gulls fly away.

The beach is endless.

Everything disappears, becomes fluid, becomes immense. We are lost in space. Looking for a man. Or a woman. To talk to. In French, if possible.

Far away. Nearly summer.