Strolling along the dock in Portsmouth, feeling the breeze from the sea in our faces, discussing projects, gossiping, foreseeing and plainly daydreaming, watching the hovercrafts from the Isle of Wight coming ashore, teasing one another, enjoying our ice-creams, learning, marvelling (that was me) at the size of the ferries as they enter the harbour at low speed, sunbathing on the grass slopes, remembering hometowns, home countries, letting homesickness cast its spell for a brief period of time, stepping into the pier and glancing at the waves breaking on its wooden pillars covered in seashells and mussels below sea level, listening to the noisy seagulls shrieking overhead as they hang motionless against the wind, spending a Sunday in good company.
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