An old bus grumbles past changing gears and stumbling up hill. Dust soldiers stand to attention, 10 thick, impossible to see through. A bike and its rider sit still in the dawn light. Out there, content, are islands, a boat all white, smooth sails and tight rigging rides and slips accross boulder coloured waves.
At sunset skin glows brown orange, warm. When crickets chatter sleep is found for everyone but the watchman holding onto thick ropes and guiding his sails by the stars.
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