On the dark gifts of grief, what it means to belong, and the possibility that time and space may not be what we think they are. It is the morning following a devastating hurricane on England's south coast, and local painter Dolores is walking the shingle beach of the Headland. She spots something unusual lurking in a piece of driftwood--a color, a creature, perhaps something fostered by the twin forces of storm and atomic fallout. It's...