I wish I could just walk into photographs. That's what she said to me, flicking through the album.
It is hard to believe it's been a year. And a year later the same expectation lingers in our eyes, on our clothes, waiting breathless for that summer that floats and settles into days of long shadows into the twinkling evening.
In the dark we'd search for christmas faeries, arms linked and dog leads in hand as we admired the houses.
During the day we'd go for drives around the cliffs to the cool blue ocean, and hide in the hot sand.
This year we should go into the city, and walk the pavements, and buy icecream by the fountain, she said quietly, shutting it.