"She told him that he had the most beautiful voice she'd ever heard, that it sounded like whiskey and wood smoke.
When they'd first come out in the morning, a single flounder lay flapping and puffing in the breezeway, one sad, swollen eye looking back toward the sea.
Photo by Ákos Szabó
Photo by Ian Turnell
When they'd first come out in the morning, a single flounder lay flapping and puffing in the breezew...
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