Friday, 22 August 2014

Eighteenth? Another part of the road trip of the year.

There’s a shark on the beach.

And a hippo.

Nearby a boy sits buried in sand up to his neck and his younger brother is making spirals in the sand, circling around and around him as he moves further and further away.

He seems untroubled by the shark, uninterested by the hippo.

A woman leans over the water as if it is the first time she has seen it.

She too is unaware of the hippo behind her.

A man jumps into a hole half filled with water, another does a front flip into the waves and a third goes around and around in circles as he rides a snow board attached to a plastic tube that squirts water and raises him from the surface of reality.

Elsewhere a woman pushes a bike across the sand.

She is tanned, her skin the colour of evening.

Her hair, tangled like seaweed, is darker.

She would see the hippo if she cared to look.

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