The ocean waves crashed on the shoreline. This wasn't a home to soft sand and beach umbrellas, it was riddled with the debris of old decayed boats, rusted crab pots, shards of shells and glass, broken concrete walls… the sinking sun painted peachy hues, here the clouds were hanging- it was going to storm. It only made the haphazard image of the beach so much heavier. Sweltering summer heat with sticky salty wind, laced the hair round his face. It was twilight, work was uneventful, a misplaced feeling present within. It wasn't quiet here, it had its own special dirge.