The Sea is in the Twilight

Crossed over Sackville Road and the twilight somehow deepened. There was a sudden taste in the air. It was the sea, I could taste the sea in the twilight, all salt and old ships and older suns.
It has felt like spring all day, the warmth of the sun in the hazy nudging me to remember other springs. Everything suddenly seems laid bare and naked and not safe.
I remember sleeping on the beach in times like this, drifting on the pebbles with cigarettes and paperback books unread, bought from charity shops in the mid-years of Brighton. I have been trying to define when this middle age of my time In Brighton is. It lasts, I think, from January 2004 when Andy moved down from Middlesbrough to March 2010 when Joe left.
A question keeps occurring to me, if that era is the middle of my time in Brighton, is this then my old age?
As I approach turning 40 - and ensuing middle age - such questions seems oddly appropriate.