The shore pines are bent like a warning from the wind, from the sea. But instead of going back, she has made a home in their curve. She would take the harsh wind at her face over the murmur of the media. Sometimes it gets so strong, up here on these cliffs that she loses balance and almost falls. It is just enough of a push to make her feel alive. To remind her that even if her profile died, she did get out of there alive.
The dog knows when the wind starts up like this it could be fatal to be so close to the cliffs. She can hear him warning her from the porch. He never used to bark in the city. Here, he must know, there’s no one around to hear him but her. And he knows someone needs to speak up, take control of the situation.
