We say very little, for we do not need to. We are silent together, each in her own world, knowing the other is just at her back.

But dying was no drama. Dying was cold and hard and painful, and dull. It went on too long. I was exhausted and growing bored with it.

Summer Evening on Skagen's Southern Beach by P.S. Kroyer, if it's not too much to ask

Lyme Regis is a town that has submitted to its geography, rather than forced the land to submit to it. The hills into town are so steep that coaches cannot travel down them; passengers are left at the Queen's Arms at Charmouth or the crossroads at Uplyme, and brought down in carts. The narrow road leads down to the shore and then, quickly turns its back on the sea and heads up hill again, as if it wants merely to glimpse the waves before fleeing. The bottom, where the tiny River Lym pours into the sea, forms the square in the centre of town. The Three Cups, the main inn, is there, across from the Customs House and the Assembly Rooms which, while modest, boast three glass chandeliers and a fine bay window overlooking the shore. Houses spread out from the centre, along the coast and up the river, and shops and the shambles market stalls march up Broad Street. It is not planned, like Bath or Cheltenham or Brighton, but wriggles this way and that, as if trying to escape the hills and sea, and failing. But that is not all there is to Lyme. It is as if there are two villages side by side, connected by a small sandy beach where the bathing machines are lined up awaiting an influx of visitors. The other Lyme, at the west end of the beach, doesn't shun, but embraces the sea. It is dominated by the Cobb, a long grey stone wall that curves like a finger out into the water and shelters the shore, creating a tranquil harbour for the fishing boats and the trading ships that come from all over. The Cobb is several feet high and wide enough for three to walk along arm in arm, which many visitors do, for it gives a fine view back to the town and the dramatic shoreline beyond of rolling hills and cliffs, and green, grey and brown. Bath and Brighton are beautiful despite their surroundings, the even buildings with their smooth stone creating an artifice that pleases the eye. Lyme is beautiful because of its surroundings and despite its indifferent houses. It appealed to me immediately

He made me feel an idiot, even when I knew he was a bigger one than I.

We say very little, for we do not need to. We are silent together, each in her own world, knowing the other is just at her back.