Walking east along Belongil Beach where it seeps into Byron's Main Beach, in the last direct light of afternoon, the tide out, the low flat beach leaves a landscape of pools, warm water basking in uncertain directions, the tide pulling at it from strange angles, the sunlight dimpled and etched along the curves of water, water purling in three directions.  A tide of small dogs, old dogs, their lady owners lounging along with friends, the last of the swimmers.