A child is wailing in protest of separation from his mama. It’s the summer break and mama needs to work. The wailing takes on a crescendo but no, that belongs to the ambulance, the ambulance with its siren, waiting at the pier. Someone on the ferry got sick, probably because of the heat. 

If you see me now I’m in the colour black. My favourite colour is green, but that’s not how the world works. Maybe it’s intentional, so that by the time you kick the bucket, your soul is knackered, shattered, pulverised even, from all the compromises it had to make, from forcing itself to give zero fucks.