Early evening geckos scale balcony walls. Occasional mosquitoes, sluggish unrepentant predators’ twilight Mountain Coral. A bungalow. A network of bungalows in fact. Lizards hang upside down on ceilings films of hair under lights that eat away night with slow soft echo of tired remembrance. Nine months ago, to be exact. Creatures surrounded by brightness, creatures that adore the light, but do not appear at day?
Sea strokes rock calm rhythm; ascending mountain sounds of a baby crying parents lost love inside the bungalow. Carina, bedroom mirror lies on the stained purple duvet bed long fair hair surmounting sprinkling golden freckles crystal cobalt eyes, flicker with an arresting abandon. She had never seen herself before. Pale watercolours, seascapes, rock formations, the balcony, colours flash out from her eyes, tidal waves, she rolls over on the bed. A cigarette blue spiral upwards metal rotary blades of the ceiling fan and then back down again to the terracotta floor tiles.
“Will he ever stop?” More a statement than a question, Carina gets up, irreparably stubbing out the cigarette on her way to feed the baby.
“Sometimes…” she trails off baby suckles her breast. She would like to smoke but the thought of smoking with a baby in arms breastfeeding is a bit too much, although would make an interesting picture, she thinks for a moment; a black silhouette against a pale pink background. But then, she thinks too much. And then the wave came. And they were drowned.