For visually challenged writers, the image shows the view from within a cave on the sea shore, looking out onto a beach. There are the shadowy entrances of other caves across the bay and a waterfall tumbles down from the rocky cliffs.
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It was a good hiding place.
No-one would find him here, and safe in the darkness, he settled down to sleep.
When he awoke, the landscape had changed and he saw other doorways into tunnels that had been hidden by the tide.
His own cavern was no longer footed by water, and he tentatively put his feet down from his rocky bed onto the gritted floor fully expecting to sink up to his waist.
On wobbly legs he walked out into daylight, marvelling at the freshness of the air, the warmth of the sun and crisp clean colours of the shoreline.
It was also remarkably quiet, no argumentative gulls fighting over scraps, the only sound being the gentle trickle of the waterfall.
He rinsed his face, then cupped his hands under the cool water, raising them to his lips.
He felt revived, curious, blessed and terrified.
He had wished for one day above water.
Come dusk, he must return to this threshold, embrace the evening tide and revert to his aquatic form.