Brighton

There is so much glass in my parents’ house that I see rainbows everywhere.

At night the silence makes my ears ring.

We face west, so the sunsets are blinding, and at dawn everything is pastel.

Most mornings, the water is glassy. I like mornings.

There is a cute brick church nearby with a Lady Chapel. It sits next to a converted schoolhouse now morphed into a beer garden, and a tennis court where four elderly ladies play doubles at 7 a.m. like nobody’s business.

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