They: A Sequence of Unease

The day was light-hearted. A wind, slight and soft on the skin, enhanced rather than reduced the sun’s warmth. Plumes of foaming waves surfaced like fresh paint on the sea. A day for falling in love.

Non-conformity is an illness. We’re possible sources of contagion.

[...] Love is unsocial, inadmissible, contagious. [...] It admits communication. Grief for lost love is the worse offence, indictable. It suggests love has value, understanding, generosity, happiness. Tessa is an extreme case. She flaunts it with pride.

It was no good listening for footsteps; they wore no shoes.

They lose the touch of keeping in touch. That’s and art in itself.

We’re offered opportunities to,” he gave a slight chuckle, “integrate. Refusal is recorded as hostility.

Communication is not encouraged.

I wondered what I had seen that afternoon and not noticed.

If we lack choice we lack everything.

[...] the sightseers prefer concrete. Think of their passion for marinas, not for boats, but for the car parks, the amusement parks, the proliferation of restaurants and blocks of high-tower apartments. They like to see the sea pulverized out of its natural area by concrete. They dislike the beaches for the same reasons; bathing in the sea is too uneasy a freedom, they prefer swimming pools. They like nothing better than to sit in their cars and look at the sea from the safe harbour of a monstrous marina complex