South Wall Sax

Drove out past the Shelly Beds to the South Wall. Fine, beige light over the sea. Around the last bend, I glimpsed a parked car with a man inside cradling a sax while he did something (rolling a fag, talking on a phone...). I'm loath to penetrate strangers' intimate bubble-worlds and was going to leave him be, but how often does one see a man in a car with a sax? So I approached him and asked if he'd mind. He didn't. People rarely do. We introduced ourselves. His name is Frank. I promised to send him a copy.