Cheesy calliope music played by the seaside where the young lovers stirred in their wanton, wistful menageries in night time dancing. Skeletons and skin craving something bigger than themselves. More than a body. More than a heart.

Spider watched from her perch near one of the ruined substations, long extinct, on a metal grid, against the angle of its pylons. It had been raining most of the night so the sight of lots of people out and about was something that had it's own charm, and which she liked to watch, like an old film, but not to partake in. Crowds, and well let's face it, people in general, just weren't her usual occasion. A loner by nature, with nothing against the world, just a comfort in solitude. A sort of solace.

Jumping down onto the sand she began the walk back to the boardwalk where she had started going of an evening to wait the hours away, while she hid and watched the ocean and smoked her cigarettes. She didn't disturb the world underneath the board, with all it's messy love letters and salt crusted graffiti. She just liked to be apart of it, to be there in her own sanctuary, with the sound of the water and the smell. The smell of freedom. Isn't that what Granpa used to say. "The sea is escape".

She figured, for all the things he was wrong about, he may have been right about that.

After a few smokes and a bit of a stroll around outside the board, she crawled back under and laid out, staring at the rickety plaster above her head. There were love stories written there too. Not so much reading it, but being in the pages of a saucy, cheap paperback. All the lives and deaths of millions of lovers that had stirred right here. And like, possibly, those romances, this boardwalk was forgottem, hidden and marred by the ugly, sky scraping fences that cut the beach from the industrial landscape of West End. But she liked it. A sweet avenue in the rubblecrested heart of the bad side of the city.

She fell asleep, the waves lapping just near, drifting into a maritime coloured dream.