Eyes strained from all too far away, we see the soft-focus, smudged outline of the boys and girls of Pearl Harbour lining up in impossible multitude along the untrod miles of a place that could be heaven itself’s burning coastline, August bronzed and gold-maned, shirts ballooning in indecipherable toe-drawn sand poem semaphore. Something about hope hanging ten eternal? Love’s water baby born today? Pass the bottle? Then, as if coming clean from uncounted centuries of elemental narcosis – a horizon swallowing, all redeeming wave like a God-speeding bird of lost mythology spreads its beautiful, coral wrought eagles wings and in one paradise fallen swoop wipes out everything before it leaving only a spooked shadow of beautiful, voiceless, found melody to reverberate in the lapping of the tide, calm again now, and the deja vu ringing, innocent enough imaginations of people entire towns away.

Whilst we’ve definitely been somewhere a little like this before; glimmering, submerged dream-surf jams, this is a place we’d happily set up camp in forever.

Pearl Harbour – Sunburn