Thing no.7

2006

Playing football on a cold, windswept beach with my brother. I kick the too-light plastic red ball but the wind takes it and it flies off into to the surf. It is just out of reach. I roll up my trousers but the sea is cold. The ball floats further out over the waves. Blown by the wind it gets smaller and smaller until it is lost in the horizon – a tiny red setting sun.