Where there was once noisy trips to the beach—to sneak away with each other in the surf and plant kisses on the tops of each other's ears —there is now only silence.
Where there was once loud lines of poetry brought to life in the screams of youth—in anger and in sadness and in love —there is now only silence.
Where there was once dance floors and dresses— the music of a million lovers clasping hands and setting their feet in steps against one other —there is now…
The inventory is unpacked and counted up from each of those long hours I have carried since those pale blue cottages on the beach, since the barroom poetry readings and the holiday dances. The shell no longer sings the ocean. The sounds that filled the vessel have all but gone away from us now.