between here and there

On a stormy morning before easter, a few hungry souls gathered on a beach at dawn. Over steaming coffee they discussed the tide and swell direction and the day before, until inevitably a wave detonated over the slab-like sandbank. The sea had beckoned and it was time.

"Come out and play," beckoned the sea.

Paranoid?

 "It's only paranoia if they aren't really there..."

Or at least that is how the saying goes.

Every time I pull into the car park at Paranoia, that saying resurfaces and I remember exactly what it is that I love and hate about the spot. Because Paranoia is a place of contradictions.

Clean lines rolling on home