She was there, on the beach, listening to the sound of the waves which were breaking on the shore like an explosion of erotic sounds on warm summer nights.
Yet the beach was empty of voices.
She was drawing faces on a canvas, colored moves that were stumbling on the surface like drunk couples among sheets.
Yet, the beach was empty of lovers.
She was waiting for the dark hours to slowly swallow that landscape, to slowly swallow her sorrows and happy memories, but she had none of them. She was just.empty. Empty like that beach in the evening.