This is a great texture: airy, terraced, washed and snackable. It's a fine piece of luggage and I will carry it with pride on the ferry to the hospital island. Im hoping that the children I see will become good people. I dont know that it will happen.
The rocking of the ferry on this gentle water brings me to a mental space of joyful relaxation. Striated thoughts — memories of my fraught schooling — slip into vapor. Salted kisses from the grave.
Tomorrow this ferry makes its last trip to the mainland, failing and sinking to the bleached coral wastes below. A playground for bored executives with expensive wet suits.