FebulousFebruary 2026: The Old Photograph

The Old Photograph

He’s sat on a beachfront wall. At night. In silvered jeans. Smiling beautifully crooked, a cigarette smoked. 

The photo is silent but I can hear the wild Atlantic behind him where the spinner sharks roam. This was not a visit. This became living there. 

Snapped 25 years almost to the day. A young man dreaming of his future, stuck amidst, wishing the time away and wanting the time there to never end.

It did. Years later his dreams continued to tussle with rewrites of his story there. Reliving moments, people, decisions. The flight home always looming. The one he landed back home again on and instantly regretted it the moment it took off, the moment mid Atlantic, the moment London touched the tyres. 

Take me back. 

Adam, Kent