Pas de Calais, Wimereux.

Still a little tired from the New Year, heavy head full of laughs and bubbles, we go to watch the sea.
The Manche, to be more precise. We walk on a huge flat beach, bright, beaten by the wind. In the sky,
ribbons of small black birds look like Chinese dragons dancing. Dry sand slips through our feet like pieces
of mist. We took refuge on a higher ground, in a cafe that smells waffle. Behind the glass,
I see the sky changing colors. There are some restrooms in front of the sunset.