Reached through the ocean, ran through the reef – stopped where the waters turned dark, into the unknowable. We were just kids then: five-, ten-, twelve-year-olds; fingers grasped around the chilled silver railings in front. The wind brought clouds of tortuous form inwards, with full bellies and colours that cracked this spurious visage. We could feel it through the tottering planks of the pier: the breath of the waves deeply sighing onto the rocks beneath our bare feet. And over our shoulder – nothing. The signs that had accompanied us, crowded – effaced, dissipated into that field of indiscernible fog. We turned back, and gripped harder. But outstretched in front of us, the expanse only grew and darkened, and the masts at the outmost edges were taken down; left rotting amongst the oceans, the reefs and the waters.
So I just kinda tucked in – I – I just kinda tucked in and jumped–