Folkestone

Folkestone.  Seagulls and snow.  Cold wind.  Dark nights.  After hours, after school, after dark, here we come, into a quiet room, to be together.  Just to be.  Together.  What's your name?  Dancing.  What are you afraid of? Running away with giddy joy.  What do you love?    Eyes closed, listening.  Low light, a floor made of newspaper, inky fingers blackened by the news, the sound of birdsong, the shipping forecast, weather, music, bodies in motion, touch, trust, skin.  She sits and looks, looking, holding steady, holding her own.  He sits and looks, holds, dances.  They dance.  In a quiet space, after hours, after dark, they dance.