“If you can’t look at the sea that’s YOUR FAULT, ANDY,” she shouts. Passers-by look at her, surprised to see someone so well-put-together bellowing something so demented in the middle of the day. “Not mine. YOURS. YOU need to go fix your relationship with the sea, NOT ME.” She turns and walks away. “YOU’VE RUINED THE SEA,” I shout before I turn and walk the other way.
