I found the bleached skeletons piled up at the foot of the cliff, broken and mangled, some torn apart by the waves, others dashed to pieces against the rocks. All the colors of life were now faded and pale, and the hollow remains rattled with each gust of wind. Further away survivors clung to the rocks, exposed to the elements, waiting helplessly for the tide. Some were half-drowned already, flailing their limbs in the freezing water or advancing painfully amid the slippery weeds. I could only save so few. I grabbed hold of those I could and held them tight, preciously.
I always have loved collecting seashells.