He was expert on British tour car racing.
Today his voice was stolen by the wind and his peers were misconnections. Bent over a sandbox, his silhouette was edgy, made jagged by the sun. His helper chewed gum and invented lovers. The skin of her hand on his hand overwhelmed him with dread.
.
'Shall we build a castle?'
OK.
The photo record would help Mum know his will to survive.