saint malo at midnight, mont saint michel in the afternoon

there are people here around me who say "yes" when i say "will you," who say "let's!" when i say "shall we?" we rented a car on a snowy weekend, drove to brittany without a map and found a trio of beds to sleep in on a road we still don't know the name of and could not pronounce even then.

the metallic salty flavour reverberates, of oysters reverberates, oysters around my mouth like the echo of a church bell. i didn't know until recently that they are alive until you crack them open, still rather undead when you suck them from their abalone homes.